Worth It All
by hermionestargazer
Summary: Harry and Hermione don't think Snape is really dead. But where could he be? Despite Ron's insistence that she not go, Hermione sets out with Harry to find out. And why would Magorian, the centaur's leader, say it is Hermione's destiny to save Snape?
1. Chapter 1

**WORTH IT ALL**

Disclaimer: I'm borrowing some of JK Rowling's characters and am not making any money on this story.

Thank you to my son, gamedude, who beta'ed this story. His help was indispensable.

Chapter 1

"Well, Miss Granger, where is he?" Minister Hawkins growled irritably, as he smacked his wand sharply into his hand.

Hermione's eyes were glued to the spot where HE had lain bloody and lifeless only hours before. The two Aurors they'd brought with them were shifting about in the background. She didn't see them whip out their wands, eyes roving quickly around the room, looking for any sign of an impending attack.

"Miss Granger!" the Minister shouted jarringly. "I demand to know what you are playing at!" The new Minister's face was red with fury.

Hermione jumped at his tone. "Minister Hawkins, I assure you, I did not bring you here under any false pretense!" she insisted haughtily. "Why on earth would I?"

Then she took in the Auror's activity, and only then did she realise the danger she and her companions could be in. If Snape's body wasn't here, then where was he? And who was responsible for his vanishing act?

"I am as shocked by this turn of events as you are, sir," she said earnestly, "but perhaps it would be best if we continued this discussion back at Hogwarts. We might not be safe here," she continued in lowered tones, her eyes full of meaning.

Instantly, the Minister's anger was visibly turned to fear. His face, so crimson before, was suddenly pallid. Hermione saw his eye twitch.

"Of course, of course," he said gruffly to cover his distress. "Gentlemen," he said in a commanding tone, addressing the Aurors. "We will leave now, but you will return with a cadre of your comrades to make a full investigation of this building for evidence of Snape's whereabouts."

The Minister whipped around before his underlings could answer and headed full steam ahead down the stairs and out the door of the shack, with Hermione hard at his heels. The Aurors emerged more slowly with wands still drawn. There was tension in every line of their bodies.

"I will Disapparate to the Ministry now. You two," he said pointing at the Dark Wizard Catchers, "make certain to get a full statement from Miss Granger, Mister Potter, and Mister Weasley before following." Then, with a 'pop' he was gone.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the window seat in Gryffindor Tower. Her eyes slid into focus and the breathtaking view of Hogwarts grounds replaced her faraway visions of that fateful night in the Shack with the Minister and his Aurors. Even now, two months after the abortive trip to retrieve Snape's body—a body that had unaccountably disappeared—her embarrassment had not lessoned one iota.

Minister Hawkins had come very close to accusing her of lying about Snape's gruesome death, that is until fear had overcome him.

The Minister had only taken office a short time before—after news of Minister Scrimgeour's capture and subsequent death by torture at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

And he had obviously wanted to be able to parade the body of Snape, a known Death Eater, before the Wizarding community like some kind of conquering war hero. He had _not_ wanted to start his tenure as Minister for Magic by having to explain how the body of said Death Eater came to be missing.

"He's just a nervous little fusspot anyway," she grumbled to herself dismissively … but there were two high spots of colour on her cheeks, denoting her own embarrassment.

Wriggling in her seat again, she let her thoughts turn, as they so often had since that fateful day, to the ever-present question in her mind that would not be silenced.

"What happened to Snape?" she breathed, her eyes closing wearily. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

Resting her head on her arms, she let her mind wander back over the evens of the last two months.

After the brutal final battle was over there had been so many pieces to pick up—figuratively and literally—that no one had known where to begin. Even Professor McGonagall had been somewhat overwhelmed by the enormity of the task.

The side of light had won, but at great cost. So many witches and wizards had died in the bloody conflict: Remus and Tonks Lupin, just newly married and having just had their first child, Fred Weasley, Mad Eye Moody …

The castle had been in shambles … and the wounded, many of them in need of urgent care, had had to be properly housed and care for. Poor Madam Pomfrey had bustled about trying, with her little band of student assistants, to triage her patients as efficiently as possible.

When word got out that Snape had been killed by Lord Voldmort's familiar, a huge snake named Nagini, at Voldemort's command, no less, the Minister had insisted on being led to the body immediately. Since Harry was already giving his statement to Kingsley Shacklebolt in Professor McGonagall's office, and Ron was grieving with his family over Fred's death, Hermione had offered to go. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought to arrive at the spot of Snape's demise to find him gone.

That surprise had only been superseded by Harry's statement concerning what he had seen in the memories Snape had given him just before he'd died.

There was no denying that Snape had set himself the task of protecting Harry after Lily's death. Why? Because, shock of all shocks, Snape had loved Lily, and he'd felt responsible for her death. He had gone through untold toil and torment in order to fulfill his duty, and had ultimately given his life in the end.

This revelation had changed the minds of the majority of the Wizarding world, Hermione's included. Even Harry had begun to see Snape as a fearless hero. And the Ministry had honoured him posthumously with an Order of Merlin, First Class, after their search for his body had not proven fruitful.

But the "Snape is a good guy after all" fervor had eventually died down, and the Wizarding world had moved on. It was understandable. There was so much to do to restore everything back to normal.

Now, two months later, the wounded were almost whole, repairs to Hogwarts, which Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stayed to effect, were well on their way. But Hermione could not forget about Snape and his body's seeming disappearance as easily as everyone else seemed able to do … everyone else, that is, except for Harry. He, too, thought a great deal about Severus Snape's whereabouts.

In recent times, Harry had begun to speak to Hermione about the subject more and more. And one night, after Ron had gone to bed early with a headache, Harry and Hermione's conversation about Snape's mysterious disappearance turned to the fanciful.

"What if Snape's not dead?" Harry had asked in a conspiratorial whisper, his green eyes searching Hermione's own chocolate brown ones urgently.

Hermione flinched at Harry's suggestion. It was as though an electric shock had passed through her. "What do you mean, Harry?" she replied, her eyes wide.

Harry leaned forward in a chair, "Come on, Hermione! We've both been living in the Wizarding world long enough to know that circumstances and people are not always what they seem here!" Harry could barely control his enthusiasm. Hermione stared at him.

"Snape was a powerful wizard! A master of deception! He had to be to survive as along as he did in Voldemort's ranks, while at the same time working for Dumbledore and the Order! Wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione felt shell-shocked. "Well, yes, Harry. Of course, but …"

"Don't you see?" Harry continued as though she hadn't even spoken. "The only way Snape could have lived as long as he did would be by staying one step ahead of the enemy!" Harry was up out of his chair and pacing now. The firelight was bouncing off his frame causing his movements to seem jerky and uncoordinated. Hermione's eyes followed him with great interest.

"You mean you think …"

"Snape was a highly intelligent person—not to mention a Legilimens. Isn't it just possible he had some idea of what Voldemort was planning to do to him? Surely Snape was always on the look-out for opportunities to sneak into the Dark Lord's thoughts to learn information! And he certainly knew, first hand, what a treacherous, evil bastard Lord Voldemort was!"

Hermione felt Harry's words quicken in her own heart and mind. She jumped out of her own chair with alacrity. "So you are saying you think Snape was somehow prepared for Voldemort's attack? And he found a way to survive it?" her voice was high-pitched and shaky. Harry spun around and grabbed her arms in his excitement.

"Exactly!"

"But how would he have done it, Harry? You saw the whole thing. That snake tried to eat him." Tears filled her eyes and a look of disgust contorted her face. "It chewed on him!"

"Hermione!" Harry almost shook her in frustration. "Please don't try to over think this! I don't know how he did it. We can ask him that when we find him!"

It was Hermione's turn to grab at Harry. "Find him? Harry, have you lost your mind? You are thinking of looking for Snape?"

"Of course I am! And you, Ron, and Ginny are coming with me!" He pulled her to him in a tight, quick hug. "Hermione!" he wheedled. "You know you want to go! You've been just as puzzled by Snape's disappearance as I have, and you know neither of us will be able to let this go until we exhaust every avenue in trying to find him."

Hermione only looked at Harry thoughtfully for about thirty seconds. The silence was palpable as she considered his proposal.

Finally, Harry could stand it no longer. "Well? Are you going with me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "You know I am," she intoned with resignation.

Then the rapid-fire monologue began. "But, Harry, we don't even know where to begin! And we still have to talk to Ron and Ginny … gather supplies … And don't you think we should tell Professor McGonagall what we mean to do? After all, it's never a good idea to just take off without …"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted softly, a look of utmost patience on his face. "We will talk all this out tomorrow—after we tell Ron and Ginny about it. OK?"

Hermione smiled a little sheepishly. "Alright, we can talk to them while we work in the dungeons. Remember, we promised Professor McGonagall we'd clean up Snape's rooms."

"Yes," Harry said with a sigh. "Who knows? Maybe we'll find something that will clue us in to what really happened to Snape."

Hermione felt doubtful. "Maybe."

Harry smiled at her. "That's our Hermione. Never one to be taken in.

"See you in the morning." And he turned and loped agilely up the steps to his dorm.

Hermione fell heavily into her chair once more, her eyes glazing over as the shock of the previous moments settled over her like a blanket. It was a long time before she could stop her mind working and go to bed.

The next morning found Hermione up and out of bed, and in her chair before Harry and Ron, as was her usual habit. She had slept only three hours total—and she looked it. Her face was pinched with strain, her eyes red-rimmed and sporting brown smudges under them. She could not stop yawning.

All the night long, after Harry had gone to his dorm and before she had fallen into her own fitful sleep, Hermione had run Harry's assertions on Snape's fate through her analytical mind.

Rationally, none of it made the least bit of sense, especially since she had seen Snape die with her own two eyes. But Harry had had a point. How many times had she seen reason deflected by the inexplicable in the Wizarding world? People and circumstances, she had learned, should never be taken at face value. And any task undertaken, no matter how dangerous or seemingly impossible, was best plunged into with more faith than thought.

It simply amazed her how many scrapes she and Harry and Ron had found themselves in, only to have the need of the moment resolved in some extraordinary manner!

Hermione had often thought Ron and Harry a bit too reckless in their exploits. She had always been the one to want to research every problem to oblivion. And that tendency, she knew, had served her friends and herself well on many occasions. But she had also learned that sometimes Harry's and Ron's approach was more necessary. Was that the case concerning Snape's disappearance?

There had to be a reason why she and Harry could not let the supposedly dead Snape rest in peace. Perhaps someone somewhere was trying to tell them something … Perhaps Snape was alive and needed their help. Was it possible that Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had been … chosen, for lack of a better word, to aid him?

Hermione shuddered at this thought, for she was unused to such suppositions.

Still …

How could she ignore the sense that Snape was out there somewhere? What if he was in need of help?

_It looks like it might be time to plunge in_, she thought, trying not to shrink away from her own conclusion.

"Whoever might be out there directing this venture," she whispered as she stared into the fire without really seeing it. "I don't mean to be weak-minded, but I need a sign … a starting place."

_Yes, that's it!_

"Show us where to begin."

As she said these words, letting them flow from the depth of her heart, she felt peace pervade her weary mind, refreshing her … even exhilarating her.

Hope.

She knew she had been heard, and she would have her sign.

After breakfast, at which Harry and Hermione filled Ron and Ginny in on their idea concerning Snape, the foursome found themselves headed toward the dungeons as they excitedly discussed their suppositions and any obstacles they might be facing.

Ron's eyes continually wandered to Hermione's as the four talked. He held her hand gently in his, and squeezed it every so often.

Ron and Hermione had been "together" since the final battle, when Hermione had impulsively thrown herself into Ron's arms just before everything had gone haywire. Looking back on it now, it had been an odd thing to do, especially at the very verge of battle. But, then, she and Ron had danced around their feelings for one another for so long and with such intricate moves that it only seemed proper that the official start of their relationship be as unconventional as all that came before it.

Hermione loved Ron, and he loved her. She knew it by the way he looked at her … by the way he touched her—gently—almost reverently. Oh, they still argued as much as they ever had, but that was just so much pretense with Ron. His pride kept him from showing too much of his soft heart to anyone. But, in their more tender moments, when they were alone, Ron did not hide from Hermione. It was as if a dam had broken inside him from the moment they had finally opened their hearts to one another.

The fact that they had little in common did not enter much into Hermione's ruminations about their relationship. The war was finally over and it was nice to just breathe free—to be together at last—no pressure, no fear.

Besides, the after-effects of the war had to be dealt with. The battle-worn castle had to be rebuilt, the wounded fully restored … everyone had to be getting on with their lives.

Harry and Ginny could finally be together and so could Ron and Hermione. That was how it was supposed to be.

That was how it was.

But, somehow, being with Ron was not all Hermione had thought it should be. She did not dwell on their differences, but every so often Hermione felt them keenly and a niggling doubt would arise in her mind.

Were they really meant for each other?

But, then Hermione would pull the "Scarlett O'Hara" and determine to "think about it tomorrow". It was just too scary to consider the question to its end.

Now, as she and Ron walked hand in hand beside Harry and Ginny, such thoughts were far from Hermione's mind. All her thought and conversation, like those of her companions were on Snape and how they would go about searching for him.

"Well, I think we should start by turning over every floor board of the Shrieking Shack looking for clues," Ginny said, her brown eyes sparkling, and her titian hair bobbing up and down behind her with her every purposeful step.

"Ginny, don't be so dense!" Ron sniped. "You know that the Aurors from the Ministry tore the Shack apart already."

Ginny narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Don't call me dense, Ronald Weasley! It's just possible the Aurors missed something. I can't believe …"

"Yes, Ron, I agree with Ginny," Hermione put in. "Aurors aren't infallible, you know."

"Of course they're not," Ron countered. "I'm only saying that Dad said they were pretty thorough. I just don't want to waste time."

Harry, who had been silent through the conflict, now broke in. "I don't think we'll find anything at the Shack," he said thoughtfully. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny turned to look at their leader. "I think if there are further clues to be found, they'll be in Snape's rooms," he finished matter-of-factly. And with that he continued walking.

"Alright …" Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "But, Harry," she called after him as she hurried to catch up with him. "It might not hurt to look the Shack over ourselves."

"Let's just see what we find while we are cleaning up Snape's quarters and classroom. Then, maybe later we could go back to the Shrieking Shack if you and Ginny still think we need to."

Ron nodded in agreement, and Ginny seemed satisfied, so Hermione capitulated with a curt, "Fine."

No one present could have predicted what the next few hours would bring.

When the four got to the dungeons they were shocked at the damage they found. Even with Snape's well-known protective charms which had most certainly been in place at the time of the battle, the dungeons looked like a cyclone had struck them. Even Snape's precious storeroom hadn't escaped the violence.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny decided to begin their clean-up/search in the classroom where the heaviest destruction had been done. For a moment, the four just stood staring at the almost unrecognisable room they had all spent so much time in over the last several years.

There was evidence of the powerful hexes and curses that had been thrown in battle—charred remains of workbenches, blown up cauldrons, stray bits of parchment strewn about like confetti … even Snape's desk was split in two. Large craters were blasted into the walls and a fine layer of rock dust covered everything.

Hermione felt completely overwhelmed by the sight. "Good God!" she whispered as she walked slowly to the where once had stood the workbench she and Neville Longbottom had shared. It was in splinters and jagged black hex marks crisscrossed the stone floor beneath.

Memories of her many pleasant and productive hours brewing under Professor Snape's severe and watchful eye flooded her mind as her own eyes flooded with tears.

Professor Snape had never been one of her favorite teachers. But, being of an intellectual turn of mind herself, she could not deny he was highly intelligent, and a brilliant potions master. And her knowledge of all that Snape had really been and all that he had done—his nobility, his bravery, his unreserved self-sacrifice on behalf of Harry and the side of light—only made her school time memories seem all the more bittersweet.

She now understood, at least in part, why Snape had been so difficult. Not only had he had to keep up the pretense of hating Harry and Gryffindors in general, but he had to have been under such great pressure playing his double role.

Hermione could not imagine having to always be on stage, as it were … having to act against her own impulses all the time … having to live in such darkness in order to serve the light. It seemed to her to be the loneliest existence possible—something like a self-imposed solitary confinement.

"What iron will he must have had," Hermione said to herself as she moved to Snape's broken desk and stood respectfully before the two halves. The others came up behind her and Ron placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"If he's out there, Hermione," he said softly, "we'll find him."

Harry and Ginny did not speak, but their faces were filled with sad reflection. The atmosphere was suddenly funereal.

Harry was the one to finally break through the melancholy mood. "Well," he said quietly, "we'd better get started, if we're going to find anything to help us in our mission." Everyone nodded.

"I suppose the best place to start is to search his desk," Hermione said briskly. "But, first off, I am going to mend it."

Ron stared at her. "Why?" he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

"I don't know," she replied, somewhat irritably, as she pulled her wand from within her robes. "It'll just make me feel better."

Somehow, she couldn't bear to leave Snape's desk in pieces. To her, the broken desk represented the wizard himself. It did not occur to her to wonder why she cared so much about this. She only knew she couldn't stand to leave the desk as it was. So, with a wave of her wand and a masterful, _Reparo_, the two halves snapped together seamlessly.

Harry laughed, "'_Reparo_' always was your specialty," he said, jiggling his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Hermione's smile was smugly satisfied as she began searching the top drawers of the desk. It was full of parchments and planners all covered in Snape's distinctive scrawl.

Again, the young witch felt a stab of painful memory rise up in her as some of his comments on her essays came to mind. His comments had never been kind. Every time she'd read one she could hear his deep resonant voice calling her an "insufferable know-it-all".

Back then, it had made her fume. Now, she could only smile sadly.

The others were at various corners of the classroom wielding their wands and muttering repairing charms.

"I don't think there's much we can do about the holes in the walls," Ron said doubtfully.

"That depends," Hermione answered from her across the room." Let me see if the missing pieces are in chunks or only rock dust. I'm not finding anything of value in the desk anyway."

As she headed quickly toward Ron there arose a sudden clatter in Snape's private quarters. The four froze in battle stance instantly.

Harry looked at Ron and jutted his head toward the door to Snape's apartment at the back of the classroom. Quietly, the two moved toward the door while Hermione and Ginny moved up behind them.

"I'm blasting it," Harry whispered. The others nodded and stepped back a little.

"Reducto!" he bellowed, thus blowing the door off its hinges.

The four rushed in, ducking as a shaft of red light shot over their heads. A shadowy figure darted out in front of them and disappeared into the inky blackness behind a large piece of furniture.

"So," rasped a man's voice, "the Boy Who Lived has come to save the day once again!" Then there was only a wheezing cackle to be heard. It sent crinkles up Hermione's spine.

"Who are you? And what do you want?" Ron growled.

"Is that Potter's side-kick, Weasley?" the voice mocked. "I should have known you'd not be far away." Another horrible laugh issued from the darkness. "I suppose the Mudblood's here, too."

"I'm here," Hermione spat. "Now, suppose you tell us how you got here and why you've come."

"Why, I knew these rooms had been vacated by my good friend Severus Snape, so I decided to come for a bit of a stay … as I've no place else to go." The voice was oily and falsely polite. "Back in the good old days, Severus showed me how to get to his quarters without being seen. Imagine my joy at finding that no one had found the secret entrance and blocked it off."

"You're a Death Eater!" Ginny gasped.

"Ah, a fourth to your little band of do-gooders, eh, Potter? There's no end to your supporters, is there?"

"I've certainly got more supporters than you have," Harry countered angrily. "It seems to me you've no options left to you, Death Eater! You will show yourself to us right now, surrender your wand, and we will arrange for the Aurors to take you to your new quarters in Azkaban!"

"Oh, I don't know," the voice said with mock casualness," I rather like it pretty well here, and since Severus has found a new place …" The four could sense the evil in the pause, and it made them uneasy. "It lacks a woman's touch, though." The sound of shifting and shuffling made Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny tense, gripping their wands all the tighter.

"Of course, had that detestable, Muggle-loving mother of yours not murdered my wife at the final battle, all would be well!" he snarled.

"Rodolphus Lestrange!" Hermione cried, her free hand flying to her mouth. "What do you mean Snape has a new place?"

"That's right, my dear," Lestrange said in a sickly sweet tone. "And I am not the only Death Eater to survive the final battle alive and still free. Of course, Severus turned out to be a wretched traitor, but I didn't know that when I saw him, or I'd have killed the bastard."

Hermione felt her stomach drop. "Do you mean to say that Severus Snape is alive?"

"Of course he is my little Mudblood spitfire." Lestrange chuckled nastily. "At least he was several weeks ago … barely."

"Where is he?" Hermione asked hoarsely. She could barely contain her eagerness.

"I don't know why you'd care, but perhaps you'd be willing to strike a little deal with me, yes?" Hermione swallowed hard.

The sounds of movement issued forth again. "It seems I am in the market for a new wife, and as you're available …"

Suddenly, Hermione felt someone roughly grab her and snatch her wand out of her hand. She fought him with all her might, but he only pulled her tighter against him.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled.

"Let me go!" she shrieked.

"Oh, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" he rasped delightedly. "I'll bet you're a tigress in the bedroom." The lust in his voice made Hermione want to heave.

"You bastard!" Ron cried, casting "_Lumos_" wildly about trying to locate Hermione and her captor.

And the curses started flying once again. There was a great deal of scuffling, screaming, swearing, and yelling. Somehow, Ron and Harry grappled their way closer to Lestrange, who was wrestling with a very frightened and angry Hermione.

"Let her go!" Ron bellowed. That was all Lestrange needed to mark his target.

"Relashio!" he screamed.

"Ron!" Harry cried in warning.

Hermione took the opportunity to elbow Lestrange in the belly as hard as she could.

"You little bitch!" he grunted, doubling over.

With that, Harry's wand was upon him. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Thud!

And then all was silent, except for the heavy breathing of those still standing.

"Is everyone all right?" Harry panted. There was a pause and then-- "Ron! Ron! Someone get some light in here!

"Just a minute, Harry," Ginny said, her voice trembling. "Let me find a candle. Lumos." Ginny's wand tip lighted, but it barely pierced the darkness as she moved further into the room.

After a considerable amount of stumbling around …

"Incendio," Ginny murmured, thus lighting a sizable candle on what appeared to be Snape's private desk.

Picking up the candle, Ginny held it aloft until Harry could locate the wall sconces. With a wave of his hand, they were lighted and the scene of the fight could be clearly seen.

"Good God!" Harry groaned, and he and Ginny rushed to the aid of Ron and Hermione, who were both unconscious on the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You check on Hermione," Harry ordered. "I'll have a look at Ron."

After stumbling over the wreckage strewn on the floor, Ginny fell to her knees beside the inert form of her friend.

"Hermione! Hermione!" she said frantically. "Are you all right?"

Hermione had just begun to stir when Harry cried out. "Ginny! Ron's in a bad way! He's bleeding everywhere! Looks like Lestrange's 'Relashio' was right on target."

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed in reply. "Hermione, Ron's hurt."

"What?" Hermione blinked eyes and tried to sit up only to be overcome by dizziness.

"You stay here, Hermione," the ginger-haired witch said in a hurried tone. "I'm going for Madam Pomfrey.

"Hurry, Ginny," Harry said grimly as he tried to stop Ron's bleeding with a Coagulation Spell. "I don't think we have much time."

Ginny stepped over the stiffened form of Rodolphus Lestrange and ran from the room.

As it happened, Ron was quite as seriously injured as Harry had at first surmised. The blood loss he'd suffered was life-threatening, but Madam Pomfrey was able, with her usual proficiency, to heal his wounds so that they were barely visible. And her Blood-Replenishing potion brought the color back to his cheeks, much to the very great relief of his sister and friends.

Still, with all he had been through, he would still need monitoring and further treatment, which meant his hospital stay would be a week, maybe two.

Hermione had suffered a blow to the head in her struggle with Lestrange, but it had resulted in only a mild concussion—more painful than dangerous. So, she was expected to be free to leave her sick bed that night.

Rodolphus Lestrange was taken directly to Azkaban, where Harry personally questioned him as the whereabouts of Severus Snape.

Lestrange, who was filthy and smelly due to his too few encounters with soap and water during his two months on the run, admitted to seeing Snape in the Forbidden Forest. "Had quite a nice little cottage at his disposal," the Death Eater said in his now familiar oily drawl. "Of course, I couldn't tell you how to get there, since I only stumbled upon it myself." He gave Harry a mock sorrowful glance. "Such a shame I can't be of any more assistance …"

"Isn't it?" Harry sniped, his face colouring with just under the surface rage. "But, tell me. Why didn't you stay with Snape … since you had nowhere else to go?"

Lestrange leaned back in the rickety wooden chair to which he was magically bound and favored Harry with a malevolent glare. "He didn't want my company, did he? He chased me off. Threatened to kill me if I ever showed my face to him again. I didn't understand it then, but now … the bastard's a turncoat … wish I'd known it then. He'd be dead as a door nail if I had!" he spat with conviction.

Harry, tired of the Death Eater's ranting, not to mention his stench, left him to the tender care of the Aurors and went straight to the offices of the Minister of Magic and convinced the high official to give him and a party of his choosing first shot at finding Snape.

It seemed the new Minister was eager to cooperate in any way with the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Of course, Harry's promise to publicly show his support of Minister Hawkins by participating in photo ops and giving favorable interviews to the _Daily Prophet_ sweetened the pot quite a bit, as far as Hawkins was concerned.

Harry was, of course, so disgusted with the whole scheme that he couldn't roll his eyes hard enough. But it was worth it to him, for, by now, his desire to find Snape bordered on obsession.

"Harry, you amaze me," Hermione giggled as Harry related this information to her later while she reclined in her hospital bed.

"Why?" Harry asked, somewhat irritatedly. "You want to find Snape as much as I do, don't you?" He paused to study her. "I'm not sure why you would feel that way. I'm the one who owes him a life debt … or a hundred of them. But you … why are you even concerned about him?"

Harry was sitting in a white painted wooden chair between Ron's hospital bed and Hermione's. Ron, under the influence of a Sleeping Draught, was thoroughly unconscious.

Hermione pulled herself to a seated position and crossed her legs, Indian style. She was a comical site with her curly locks sticking out from under the gauze of her bandage, and her face scrunched up in thought.

"I don't know, Harry," she said slowly. "I just can't get away from the thought that he's out there somewhere and in trouble."

Harry nodded. "I know," he said quietly.

"I guess I just can't stand to think of him not knowing that someone really recognises all he's done … not knowing that his sacrifices have been recognised for what they were."

Hermione paused for a moment. "I'm sorry. I'm saying this badly." She squared her shoulders for another try at expressing herself. "Snape is a hero, Harry … a hero! It's just wrong for the Wizarding World—and especially for us—to turn our backs on him if there is any chance at all that he is alive and we can help him!" She finished fervently.

Harry watched her, sensing she had more to say. She looked a bit embarrassed.

"Besides, I asked for a sign and got it today … in Snape's rooms." Her words were barely audible. Harry's eyes widened.

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly. Hermione blushed deeply.

"Well, last night after you went to bed I was thinking about Snape and trying to puzzle out why we were so possessed with the idea that he's alive and in need of help," she began.

"And?" Harry encouraged.

Hermione pulled at her fingers nervously, as she looked down at them. "And I came to the conclusion that perhaps somehow we're meant to be the ones who find Snape … you know, like we're supposed be consider it our personal mission." Hermione's eyes darted to those of her friend, but Harry's expression was blank. "So, in order to test the theory, I asked for a sign—I asked to be shown where to begin our search, and, well, the direction came today in Snape's rooms with Rodolphus Lestrange … at least that is how I see it."

"I see," Harry said evenly. Hermione waited with baited breath for Harry to go on. "Yes, I suppose that is one way to look at today's events." He looked as if he might say more on the subject, but with a little shake of his head, he changed the subject instead.

"I think we should leave as soon as possible, and I think we should start in the Forbidden Forest," he said suddenly. Hermione could sense the urgency behind the words. She knew then that he was taking her suppositions seriously and it only confirmed her in her convictions.

"I agree, Harry," she said letting out a cleansing breath. "But Ron will not be able to join us for a couple of weeks, at least."

"I know, but I don't think we should wait that long, Hermione," Harry insisted, and he leaned in nearer to her. "The Minister informed me that Lestrange isn't the only Death Eater the Aurors haven't caught yet. There are several others out there, and they surely know Snape's true loyalties by now, if Lestrange did."

Hermione gasped at Harry's implications.

"What if they get to him before we do? What if he's too hurt—too weak to fight them off?"

"Yes, I see now that you're right," Hermione said earnestly. "Have you spoken to Ginny about it yet?"

"No, she's still at the Ministry giving her statement. I'll talk to her as soon as she returns."

"Good," Hermione countered. Then she began chewing on her lip nervously. "Perhaps Ginny will understand our need for haste, but I have a feeling Ron will be less easily convinced." Hermione's eyes were full of apprehension.

"Possibly," Harry said. "But he'll come around eventually. It's a matter of life and death, Hermione."

"Yes," Hermione sighed.

"What's a matter of life and death?" Ron broke in groggily.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed and she tried to jump out of bed. Harry ended up helping her to his chair.

"Hermione, are alright?" Ron's blue eyes fixed on her sharply.

"Yes, love," she assured him. "It's you that got the worst of it."

"So I feel," Ron groaned.

Harry knelt on the stone floor on the other side of Ron's bed. "How do you feel, mate?"

"Like I've been raked over the coals, Harry. And You?" Ron replied with a lopsided, half-grin, half-grimace.

"Madam Pomfrey said to call her when you awoke. She'll give you a potion for the pain." And off Harry went to get the mediwitch.

"No doubt whatever Madam Pomfrey gives me it'll taste awful!" Ron grumbled.

"I'm sure," Hermione agreed with a smile as she took his hand in hers. "In the meantime, would you like some water?"

"Sure," Ron said absently. Hermione poured him a goblet from the pitcher on his bedside table. "But what's all this about 'life and death'?"

"Why don't we wait until Harry comes back and you've had your potion to discuss that?" she replied as she handed him his drink.

He took the drink but regarded Hermione with eyes narrowed distrustfully. "Why do I get the distinct feeling I'm not going to like this?"

Hermione smiled as convincingly as she could, but refused to say more.

Madam Pomfrey brought the potion at that moment. "Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley," she said brusquely. "I hear you have some pain." Ron nodded. "Well, I should think so! You had so many wounds on you, it took me nearly an hour to heal them all!"

With deft movements the matron pulled the cork from the bottle and handed it to Ron. "Drink it all, please."

Ron did as told, though he made horrible faces as he drank.

"For heaven's sake, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey clucked, "it isn't that bad, is it?"

"Oh, it is, Madam Pomfrey, it really is!" Ron sputtered.

"Well, really!" The matron seemed personally affronted at Ron's reaction. "At least you'll be grateful to feel better," she tossed back as she bustled away.

And he was grateful, especially when Harry and Hermione filled him in on all they had found out and the decision they'd made about what to do concerning finding Snape.

"But you can't go without me!" he cried, obviously stung.

"Now, Ron," Hermione said placatingly as she squeezed his hand.

"No!" Ron shot a glare at her and yanked his hand away. "I absolutely forbid you to do this! You will not go on this mission without me." His tone held finality.

But Hermione was instantly furious. She rose to her feet and put her hands on her hips.

"Ronald Weasley! Who do you think you are, ordering me about like this?" Her eyes were positively aflame with indignation.

But Ron was unfazed. "I am your fiancé, and I am looking out for your best interests. This is a dangerous thing you and Harry are trying to do! It is only natural that I would want to be there to protect you!" Then he became more subdued. "Besides, I should think you would want to be here with me. I am injured, and I need you."

There had been a hint of pleading in these words, and Hermione was not inured to it. Her ruffled feathers began to smooth.

"I know, love," she answered softly. "But we can't wait until you are well enough to come. Snape could be in dire trouble. Surely you can see that."

"Of course I can," Ron replied feelingly. "I just don't see why it has to be you that goes with Harry." He turned to his closest friend. "Harry, you could ask someone else to go with you."

"I could, Ron, but you know Hermione's a really valuable ally in these situations. Besides, I doubt I could dissuade her from coming, even if I wanted to."

Ron's eyes went big as saucers. "Just tell her she can't come, Harry! Surely you see my point in wanting her to stay." Ron was getting angry again. "You wouldn't want Ginny to do something like this without you."

"I understand perfectly, Ron. But I am not Hermione's boss any more than you are. And I don't think I could prevent Ginny from doing something she really wanted to do. Further, I don't think it would be my place to try." Harry's voice was patient but firm.

"I can't believe this!" Ron hit his mattress with his fists in frustration. "Here I am laid up for God knows how long and my closest friend and my fiancé are abandoning me, when there are others just as capable of finding and helping Snape!"

"Ron!" Hermione felt as if he was pulling her heart out.

"No, Hermione!" Ron said, voice suddenly low and full of meaning. "If you do this without my blessing you can consider our engagement off!"

"You don't mean that!" Hermione exclaimed, tears springing to her eyes.

"I do," Ron said coolly, his jaw set. "And as for you," he continued, turning to Harry," if you take her against my wishes, you and I are no longer friends."

But Harry's mind was unchanged. "Ron, you are behaving stupidly."

Ron ignored Harry's comment and turned back to Hermione. "Well, what will it be?" He was not moved by her open crying.

"I am going, Ron," she said between sobs.

"And you?" Ron said to Harry without missing a beat.

"I will not stand in her way," Harry replied without hesitation.

Ron stared angrily in front of him, his face red. "Fine, then. Get out," he said icily.

"Ron! Stop being ridiculous!" Hermione implored.

But Ron would not look at her. "Get. Out." The words were clipped, irreversible.

Harry took Hermione's arm gently and wordlessly led her away.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sobbed as soon as they had gotten through the double doors and out into the corridor. Harry wrapped his arms around her and patted her back as she hiccoughed into his shoulder.

"You don't have to do this, Hermione," he murmured. Hermione buried her face into his chest.

"I do have to do it," she said seriously. "I want to do it. Besides," she continued as she pulled away and began searching for her handkerchief in her robe pockets. "If I let Ron run my life now, what kind of marriage will we have?" She had found the handkerchief and was mopping up her tear-stained face.

"I suppose you're right," he said grimly. "I'm just sorry all of this has happened. I don't want to hurt Ron …"

"Oh, I know, Harry." Hermione was quick to reassure her friend. "Ron will come around, like you said. He just has to!"

"What's all this?" Ginny broke in as she approached Harry and Hermione, trepidation all over her face.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione said dolefully.

"Ginny," Harry said, kissing her cheek in greeting. "You and I need to talk." He turned to Hermione. "Will you be all right? Do you need us to walk you back to the tower?"

"No, no," Hermione insisted with a wave of her hand. "You go and talk to Ginny. I'll be fine."

Harry nodded and, taking Ginny's hand, led his puzzled fiancé away.

Their talk did not go well.

"You can't be serious!" Ginny protested.

"Ginny …" Harry tried, his hand up in defense.

"No, Harry! I can't believe I'm hearing this!"

"Just let me explain!"

"Explain? Explain what?" Ginny shouted, gesticulating wildly. "Ron is in the hospital wing, Harry! He's been seriously injured. You cannot possibly mean to leave him behind AND take Hermione with you against his wishes! That's just—that's just …"

"This is important, Ginny!" Harry got out quickly, knowing he'd have to talk fast.

"And my brother, your best friend, isn't?!" she shrieked.

"Good God!" Harry yelled, finally running out of patience. "Why do you and Ron have to couch this situation as if Hermione and I are maliciously mistreating him?"

"Because you are!" Ginny returned no less heatedly. "Don't you see? Not only are you leaving Ron behind at a time when he needs you, but you are meddling in his relationship with Hermione unnecessarily!"

"Meddling!" Harry shook his head.

"Yes, meddling!" Ginny emphasized. "You two are not the only witch and wizard alive who can save Snape, you know! You don't have to go! I can assure you I will not be accompanying you! Why don't you just let the Ministry handle the search? It's their job, anyway."

"I don't know, Ginny. I just sense it has to be us. I feel responsible to Snape. Look at all he's done for me! I feel obligated," he finished miserably.

Ginny was quiet for a moment. Harry could sense she was honestly trying to understand.

"I don't see it, Harry, but let's put your sense of obligation aside for a moment. Why do you have to drag Hermione along with you?"

"I'm not dragging Hermione anywhere!" he said, his voice rising with every word. "She wants to be there!"

"She wants to be on a search for Snape more than she wants to be here for the man she loves?!" Ginny was shouting again. "Can't you see how wrong that is?"

"Again, Ginny, you and Ron are completely twisting our motives around! This is a life and death matter. Snape might be alive and in danger. He's a war hero! We owe him! Why can't you see that?"

Ginny's face was red. "All I see is that the two most important people in Ron's life are needlessly abandoning him in his hour of need!" Tears of anger fell down her cheeks as she went on. "Well, I won't leave him, too! You and Hermione go on your little rescue mission while I stay here and take care of my brother!"

Her eyes were full of recrimination. "And don't expect me to be here for you when you get back!" She headed for the door looking like a ginger-headed storm cloud.

"Ginny, don't," Harry pled softly.

Ginny's hand was on the doorknob. She did not turn around.

"I'm serious, Harry," she replied tightly.

And the next moment she was gone.

Later, as Hermione and Harry sat in their favorite chairs before the fire in Gryffindor Tower, they shared their woes like the comrades in arms they were.

"I tried to talk to Ginny after supper, Harry," Hermione said sadly. "I'm sure you can guess how that went. She wouldn't even give me a hearing."

"I know," he said sorrowfully. "I went to see Ron and he basically threw me out before I could say anything."

A melancholy silence surrounded the two friends for a time. Then …

"When should we leave?" Hermione asked colorlessly.

"Hermione, you really don't have to go. I don't want …"

"I'm going," she said. "When?"

"Day after tomorrow," he answered as he blankly stared into the fire. "We'll use tomorrow to prepare and to … say our goodbyes."

The next day was full of preparations. First, Harry and Hermione filled Professor McGonagall in on their plans. She was obviously displeased, but she did not try to dissuade them. And she instructed the house-elves in the kitchen to give them plenty of provisions.

Hermione spent several hours in the library reading all she could find on the Forbidden Forest. She learned about the creatures inhabiting it, especially about the habits of the centaurs because she and Harry had had dealings with them in the past.

She wanted to find a way to get along with them rather than having to fight them. The reading she did made it clear that were fond of reason. So, Hermione was in hopes that they would understand and support Harry and Hermione's desire to find and help a fallen comrade. Perhaps they would even aid in the search. She knew she was being somewhat over-optimistic, but one could always hope.

Later that evening, both Harry and Hermione tried to speak to their respective fiancés. But neither of them would stand for it. Harry felt dejected, but Hermione was almost despondent.

She could not imagine how this whole situation had gotten so blown out of proportion. Why couldn't Ron just understand that this was something she felt she had to do? Would it be like this all their married life? That is, if they were to be married after all … If she married Ron would he always throw these childish tantrums in order to have his own way?

Ron had always been prone to fits of anger, but Hermione hadn't ever dreamed he could go so far as to threaten to cut off their relationship to prove a point.

And now it seemed Ginny was cut from the same cloth. Poor Harry.

"They've tempers to match their hair, I suppose," she murmured to herself bitterly.

But was she willing to spend the rest of her life trying to quell such a temper?

That was the question to which Hermione knew she must decide the answer before she went any further in her relationship with Ron. It made her sick at heart to think about leaving him, but she knew full well that this was not an issue she could leave unsettled until after the wedding.

There was to be little sleep that night for Hermione, but still she came to no conclusions.

The next day dawned grey and misty as Harry and Hermione set out from the castle, each wearing a backpack with their supplies in reduced state inside.

"All right," Hermione muttered To Whom It May Concern, "we're stepping out on this trip because you gave us a sign. Please don't fail us now."

"What?" Harry asked with a yawn.

"Nothing, really," Hermione said, trying to sound airily unconcerned. "I was just asking our Director to continue to guide us."

Harry said nothing, so Hermione didn't know what he was thinking.

As they walked in silence, Hermione let her eyes wander about her and she noted that the restoration efforts on the castle grounds were going well. Things were a far cry from what they had been just after the final battle.

She could still envision the mass chaos that day's fighting had wrought. She could see and smell the smoke as trees and grass had burnt—could see the huge gouges in the verdant lawn. And the once imposing castle … it had been like a giant grey slab of Swiss cheese it had been so damaged.

Of course, the most sobering and horrifying sight had been the dead and wounded littering the battlefield. There had been so much blood—so much terrible pain and suffering. Hermione could still recall how nauseated she'd been as she'd moved from one twisted form to another, trying to relieve the injured and cover the dead.

Since Harry's final confrontation with Voldemort had been in the Great Hall it had sustained more damage than any other part of the castle. It had hurt Hermione so badly to see the center of all Hogwarts' most joyous celebrations bathed in the blood of her enemies and, even more so, her friends and loved ones.

Apparently, Professor McGonagall had felt the same way, for she had made it a point to have the Great Hall restored almost before anything else was done.

Still, Hermione spent as little time as possible in that room. The memory of the devastation could not be so easily wiped from her mind. Too clearly could she still see the covered bodies of the honourable dead neatly lined up and down the middle of the Hall, large pools of crimson blood, desecrating their temporary resting places.

"Hermione," Harry's voice jarred her from her reverie, "are you still with me?" He spoke softly and the sad, small smile on his face indicated that his thoughts had been running along the same lines as those of his friend.

Tears filled Hermione's eyes as she silently clasped his hand.

"Yes, Harry," she replied. Neither of them felt compelled to say anything more.

Minutes later, the two stood just outside the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest. It loomed before them, emanating its mysterious darkness. Hermione took a shaky breath.

"Well, here we are," she said, her eyes wide as she regarded Harry warily.

"Right, well …" he said, tightening the straps of his backpack. "I think it would be best for us to move as quickly and quietly as we can. And if we meet up with anyone, with the exception of a Death Eater, we will state our mission and only fight if we have to."

"Obviously, Harry," Hermione chuckled nervously. Harry grimaced.

"I know, I know," he mumbled.

"I'm kidding," she said conciliatorily. "I guess I'm just worried about meeting up with the centaurs. They own the Forest, you know. If they don't let us through, our mission to find Snape will go nowhere."

"They THINK they own the Forest, Hermione," Harry amended.

"Well, I think it might be best to let them believe whatever they wish," Hermione said pointedly.

"You're probably right," Harry replied with a grin. "At least we know where the Acromantulas are located, so we can outright avoid them."

"Yes, thankfully," Hermione agreed.

"Well, I suppose we should be moving on," Harry said reluctantly.

"I suppose so," Hermione agreed just as reluctantly.

Then the two joined hands and wordlessly stepped into the Forbidden Forest, fully prepared to meet Destiny head on.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Though the sun was fully up now, Harry's and Hermione's first steps into the Forbidden Forest plunged them into a murky twilight.

"Oh, my!" Hermione breathed.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, as he began moving forward.

"Lumos," the two murmured together. And the tips of their wands lit up with an eerie green glow.

Harry took the lead, breaking the path ahead of them. But the brambles still caught at Hermione's clothes. Both Harry and she had worn long sleeves and jeans in anticipation of this very obstacle, but they both knew that the longer they fought their way through the Forest, the less protection such precautions would afford them.

"I certainly am glad I'm not wearing my bandage anymore," Hermione said to herself with a relieved sigh. "It'd be snagged by something with every step I took.

Harry didn't hear her comment. "I don't know exactly where we're going, Hermione," he said grimly.

"I know."

"But I think that Snape, if he is hiding out, would find the Forest the perfect place to do so." Harry used a Slashing spell to remove a particularly large and troublesome bramble from their path. "I mean, he might be taking his chances with the other escaped Death Eaters, but the Ministry wouldn't spend a great deal of time searching the Forbidden Forest."

"Probably not," Hermione agreed. "But why would Snape fear the Ministry, Harry? He did give you those memories. Wouldn't he just assume you would do your best to convince the authorities of his true loyalties?"

"Not necessarily," Harry replied breathlessly, as he Slashed at a nettle bush. "He might be afraid I still hate him and would refuse to believe the memories were real. Snape's paranoid, Hermione. And he knows he did a great job of making me hate him."

"But he also knows you are an honourable person, Harry. Wouldn't it make more sense that he'd believe you to be working on his behalf, no matter how much you hated him?"

"Maybe," Harry answered without conviction. "I'm just theorizing."

The two companions were quiet as they both gave themselves up to their own thoughts.

Harry and Hermione kept moving for another two hours before they felt too exhausted and hungry to go on. They used their wands to clear a spot on the ground on which to sit and eat. Hermione, whose pack contained enough food in its reduced state to feed them for a week, pulled out two tiny packets and restored them to size.

"Engorgio."

And two large roast beef sandwiches appeared. She handed one to Harry, and they ate in silence.

Suddenly, Hermione felt as though someone, or several someones, were watching them. How was that possible? She had heard absolutely nothing approach their spot.

"Harry," she whispered without turning to look at him.

"Yes," he mumbled through the bite of sandwich his mouth.

"Do you hear anything—feel anything?"

Harry paused in his chewing. "No," he said, taking another bite of his food. "Why?"

"I don't know. I just have the sneaking suspicion we're being watched."

Only then did they hear movement in the thicket behind them.

Then, without further warning, about twenty sleek and muscular centaurs of varying colors appeared, encircling Harry's and Hermione's resting site. They held their bows, arrows resting on the string, in their large, square hands.

"We meet again, Harry Potter," the deep voice of Magorian hailed Harry. His equine body was shiny, blue-black, his face handsome, but careworn.

Harry and Hermione jumped up and inclined their heads respectfully at their visitors.

"Magorian," Harry answered. "How are you?"

"I am well, young wizard," His dark eyes were impassive, but the muscles in his jaw were tight. The other looked poised to follow their leader into battle.

"This is Hermione Granger, Magorian. She is my companion and friend." Hermione curtsied but said nothing. She felt it best that Harry do all the talking at present.

Magorian nodded to Hermione, only meeting her eyes for an instant before turning back to Harry.

"Why are you in the Forbidden Forest, Harry Potter?" Magorian asked, his voice booming as thought in judgment. "And why did you not seek me out with your request to sojourn here?" Magorian's eyes were flashing.

Harry fought to maintain the proper balance between fearlessness and respectful regard. "We are here in search of a missing comrade—a hero of the war with Voldemort. He was thought to be dead, but now we have reason to believe he is alive and hiding in your Forest. Perhaps you know of him? His name is Severus Snape, former Potions master at Hogwarts."

Magorian's countenance did not change, but the atmosphere surrounding the group in the clearing tensed perceptibly. There was restlessness in the other centaurs. Some of them lightly pawed the ground in what seemed to Harry and Hermione like agitation.

"You have seen him," Harry stated, leaving no room for argument. Magorian nodded slightly. "Do you know where he is?"

"Please, Mister—ah—Magorian," Hermione stuttered self-consciously," is he all right? We won't do anything to hurt him. We just want to help him in any way we can." Her words came in a rush. Her eyes were full of desperation to convince.

The sleek black sides of the leader heaved in a soft sigh, as he regarded the two young rescuers before him. His followers were all watching their leader intently. But Magorian's black eyes were locked on Hermione's pleading brown ones. She felt he was attempting to read her. She felt him delve deeply into her heart and mind.

What was he looking for?

She did not fight his invasion, though it was her automatic reaction to try to do so.

Then, something of a satisfied look spread across his face. His eyes became friendlier, his mouth curved into the tiniest of smiles.

"I believe you, little lioness," Magorian said softly. "Our meeting here is fate. Saving Severus Snape is your destiny," he intoned meaningfully, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face, "and his."

Harry turned to look at Hermione questioningly. But she could not tear her full attention away from Magorian. She felt his words flow over her. She felt them burrow deeply into her heart. She did not have the slightest clue what they meant; she only knew that this moment was a turning point in her life—for good or ill—and there was no going back.

She turned her eyes up and addressed the Director. "Thank you," she mouthed.

For one thing was clear to her, this meeting, as Magorian had said, was fated. Harry reached out and squeezed her hand, and she took comfort that he had recognized this moment for what it was, as well.

"I will take you to Severus Snape, but the journey will not be easy," Magorian warned.

"That's all right," Harry said as he and Hermione quickly began packing up their resting site. "We're thankful for your help."

Hermione pulled her backpack up around her shoulders, "Yes, thank you," she said enthusiastically. "We're ready now."

Magorian turned to his ranks. "Bane, you will accompany us. The rest of you go back to your duties. I will return soon. Look to Zyan as leader should there be a need."

Zyan, a roan coloured centaur with shoulder length hair stepped out from amongst the others, while Bane, a handsome chestnut centaur with short curly hair made his way gracefully over to his leader.

Bane's displeasure was thinly veiled, and Harry remembered that Bane had once tried to incite some of his fellow centaurs to harm him and Hermione when, in their fifth year Hermione had cleverly tricked the evil Dolores Umbridge into the Forest in order to save Harry from Umbridge's Cruciatus Curse. Hermione's pointed look in Harry's direction told him she remembered, too.

"We will have to travel far into the Forest. There is a safe house, built long ago by Albus Dumbledore to be used at need by anyone seeking his protection from danger. The wizard you are seeking now resides there.

"Some of our scouts found him there shortly after the final battle. They would have killed him as a trespasser, but he was severely injured. And our laws do not allow us to kill any creature in such a state. We did all we could to revive him—with some success. But, the snake bite wounds he sustained are magical and slow in healing.

"Severus Snape has said he could heal them with the proper potion, but he cannot risk his health in going after the ingredients needed. And our council determined it would not be prudent, in the aftermath of war, for us to leave our Forest."

Hermione felt white hot anger surge up in her heart at this last statement. How could they be so heartless? Harry sensed her anger and put a restraining hand to her shoulder.

"We have heard his story, and seen the truth of it in the stars, so we do what we can for him." Magorian paused, looking off into the Forest. "But it is not enough. Perhaps the two of you can do more."

Hermione and Harry did not know how to answer. So they nodded solemnly.

"Come," Magorian said with a wave of his hand. "I wish to get you to the safe house before night fall."

With that, the group stepped out of the clearing and into the close darkness of the Forest proper.

Even though Magorian and Bane were excellent guides, who chose the easiest possible route to their destination, there were still the natural obstacles to overcome. Besides, the ever-present nettles, there was the uneven ground covered with tree roots—some of which were as tall as Hermione. So there was a lot of climbing and fancy footwork necessary to navigate their path.

Exhaustion was not long in coming to the two would-be rescuers. Magorian and Bane, on the other hand, did not seem at all bothered by the rigours of the trip. And Bane was openly derisive about Harry and Hermione's discomfort.

"What is wrong, Children of Men? Is the Forest too much for you?" Bane's voice was smooth and soft, but his intent was made clear by the malicious glittering of his eyes.

"Bane," Magorian said smoothly, yet authoritatively.

Harry and Hermione were too tired to even feel indignant let alone show it by word or deed.

By the end of the trip, the two novice forest trekkers were mute with misery. Then, like a sudden ray of sunshine through a bank of storm clouds, the small group stepped into a clearing. And there stood what Harry and Hermione could only assume was Dumbledore's safe house.

It was a small, two story cottage built of grey stone. The windows were mullioned and adorned by rust-coloured shutters. The door was a big, wooden affair with an iron ring for a door handle. Harry and Hermione could feel the magical wards surrounding the house and its immediate grounds.

"These protective spells are strong," Harry murmured as he pulled his wand.

"They are," Magorian said in lowered voice. "But you will not need your wand."

With an open hand to the side of his mouth, Magorian boomed," Severus Snape, it is I, Magorian and party! Let down the wards!"

Hermione watched as a shimmering golden cylinder, reaching from treetops to ground, appeared all about the grounds. Its sudden appearance made her jump.

Harry breathed a soft, "Incredible!"

"He is most likely in the garden out back," Magorian said as he led the way.

"This place has a garden?" Harry asked.

Magorian nodded. "It is one of Dumbledore's personal touches."

Hermione giggled, "That would be very like him."

"Indeed," the centaur agreed with only the second small smile of the day.

Bane remained stoic.

The garden was breath-taking. The center of it was a weathered grey, wooden wishing well surrounded by small, detailed stone wood nymphs and water sprites charmed to frolic around it playfully.

The flowerbeds, riotous with colour, were arranged in wedges about the well, with multi-colored stone pathways delineating them. There were delicate roses in every hue, cheerful poppies, fragrant honeysuckle, homely daisies, and sprays of baby's breath bordering each plot.

Separate from the flowers was a kitchen garden filled with herbs, lettuces, carrots, beans, peas, and every other vegetable imaginable.

The back garden wall was covered in deep green ivy. And as the group approached it, Hermione could see a bird sanctuary off to her right, complete with a large stone bird bath charmed to refill itself, and several feeders nailed to stakes around it. Several varieties of birds were busy at both bath and feeders.

To her left was a wrought iron set of lawn chairs and table. The chairs were well padded and upholstered in bright tropical flowers and birds. The pattern was bold and colorful—very eccentric—very Dumbledore.

"Good evening," said a silky, deep voice coldly.

Harry and Hermione spun around to find themselves facing the object of their search … their host … Severus Snape.

He was pale and thinner, if possible, than they remembered him from their school days. He was wearing his traditional, black teacher's robes, but just beneath the high collar could be seen clean, white bandages wrapped about his throat.

Hermione suppressed a shudder at sight of them. She knew that underneath were Nagini's bites.

Harry stepped forward. "Sir, we are very glad to see you."

Snape eyed him coolly. "I really rather doubt that, Potter … unless you are only looking forward to turning me over to the Ministry.

"No!" Hermione countered, as she joined Harry. "You misunderstand us. We have come to help you."

Snape turned his severe gaze on her. "Ah, Miss Granger," he said with mock politeness. "I presume you are the brains behind this expedition … as usual."

Hermione glared him down. "Actually, sir," she spat. "Harry and I both engineered our search for you. Something told us you were alive and we couldn't just leave you to your fate …"

"How very honourable of you, Miss Granger." Snape cut her off acidly. "But now you've found me, what do you intend to do with me?" There was challenge in his eyes, but Harry and Hermione knew he was only asking if they were intending to let the Ministry decide his fate.

"You needn't worry about the Ministry, sir," Harry said as mildly as he could. "They know whose side you were really on. I've shown them the memories you gave me when …" He paused a moment, looking at the ground uncomfortably. "As far as they are concerned you are a hero. I convinced them to let Hermione and I look for you …"

But Snape was clearly agitated. "You took my memories to the Ministry officials?" His voice was dangerously quiet, his glare piercing.

Hermione felt confused. Hadn't Snape wanted to be exonerated? Hadn't he expected Harry to use the memories to tell his story?

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "I had to as proof of my story. Surely you knew …"

Snape was, if possible, paler now. "Of course," he averred, his face returning to its usual unreadable mask. "There was nothing else you could do … no other way."

Harry cleared his throat. "If it makes you feel any better, I did … well, edit the memories, so that only the absolutely necessary information was left."

Snape looked sharply at him. "I didn't think they needed to see everything," he mumbled, his eyes cast to the ground, his face tinged with red.

Snape visibly relaxed. "Indeed … That was judicious of you," he said stiffly. Harry looked embarrassed

Hermione turned away, pretending to be observing the birds gathered at the sanctuary. Her face was wreathed in smiles. Snape had all but thanked Harry and complemented him into the bargain! Would wonders never cease?

"Won't you sit down?" Snape asked. The mock politeness was back. "Magorian, Bane can I offer you anything?" Now his tone was more polite, but only slightly so.

"No, thank you," Magorian answered. "We will only stay long enough to find out if we can be of further assistance."

Harry and Hermione sat wearily down in the pushily padded chairs. Snape summoned a tray of refreshments from the kitchen. A teak wood tray bearing tea and biscuits, cheese, and fruit floated to the table.

Snape did not eat, but his two guests set to immediately. No one spoke for several moments. Then …

"What is the potion you need, sir, to complete your healing?" Hermione asked without preamble.

Snape regarded her bemusedly. "Straight to the point, then, Miss Granger?"

Hermione reddened. "It's just that you must be in pain, sir. Surely you must wish to be free of it … and the threat of infection."

"Of course, Miss Granger. How very astute of you," he said with a smirk. "But it is not to be so simple as all that. I must brew the potion that is to ultimately make me well."

"Then we will brew it, of course. When can you be ready to leave? We'll go to Hogwarts, make some sense of your potions room and brew the potion."

Snape laughed derisively. "Surely you cannot mean for me to travel. I assure you I am unable to do so." His words were clipped, angry. "No, the potion ingredients will have to be brought to me for brewing—and soon," he said darkly.

Hermione felt a sudden, unexplainable pain shoot through her. "You are in danger otherwise?" she asked in soft alarm. She heard Harry shuffle his feet beside her.

Both Snape and Hermione ignored him. Snape's eyes narrowed distrustfully. "I cannot imagine what would prompt that look of concern on your face, Miss Granger," he said tersely. "I know it cannot be concern for my well-being. Perhaps, being the perfectionist that you are, you do not wish to have your mission botched by something so inconvenient as me expiring."

"How dare you suggest such a thing!" Hermione exploded like a volcano. She felt Harry's hand on her arm, but she shook him off. "You don't know me, sir! You've no right to think the worst of me … no right and no cause!" she spat through clenched teeth.

For a split second, Snape looked as though he'd been slapped, but then his sourly sarcastic expression dropped back into place. "Really, Miss Granger, control yourself," he said in bored tones.

"Hermione …" Harry whispered his warning.

Hermione glanced daggers at him for only a moment before returning her attention to her unperturbed former professor. "The fact is, I was concerned, but I see now that I needn't have bothered. If you've enough energy to think up such a ridiculous charge against me, then you cannot be in any immediate danger. Don't worry, I will not trouble you with my concern again!"

Snape's face was unreadable. "Thank you," he mocked. "You've set my mind at ease. Now, if we could move on to more important subjects …"

"Rather," Hermione agreed acerbically.

She turned to Magorian and Bane, who looked completely undisturbed by the scene being played out before them. "Perhaps, Magorian, you and Bane would be so kind as to lead Harry out the Forest, so that he can get back to Hogwarts to collect the necessary ingredients and tools for Professor Snape's potion."

"Hermione," Harry said, surprise on his face. "Do you mean to stay here?" His eyes spoke volumes of disapproval.

"Of course!" Hermione countered.

"I don't recall inviting you," Snape broke in nastily.

Hermione spun around to face him. "We have a potions room to set up, and I will need time to read about the potion if I am to assist you in its brewing. Besides, I can fix meals and take over household duties. You, sir, need your rest from the looks of you."

He glared at her. "I thought you would waste no more of you concern on me!" he snapped.

"It's not concern," Hermione retorted coolly. "It's just common sense!"

"Fine," Snape said smoothly, but his eyes were still snapping. "Mister Potter, you will return to Hogwarts tomorrow morning with a list of my making. That is, if Magorian can spare you a guide."

Magorian inclined his head in assent. "One of us will be here early in the morning. Until then, good evening to all." And he and Bane disappeared behind the back garden wall.

"Come with me," Snape said shortly.

Harry and Hermione felt exhausted suddenly, as Snape led them into the cottage by way of the kitchen door.

The kitchen was small and stone-floored. A little table sat under the window looking out into the garden. There was a small wood stove with oven and accompanying wood box, and an ice box charmed to stay cold. It even had a freezer up top.

"How do you get food, sir?" Harry asked.

"There are enough supplies laid in her for two people to live on for six months. And the centaurs have been kind enough to bring me the occasional rabbit or deer. And, of course, there's the garden. It's charmed to produce prolifically."

Snape led them through the well-ordered pantry, which was chock full of reduced packages of non-perishable food, into the dining room. It, too, was stone-floored, but a colorful carpet kept the chill out. And there were woodland animal themed tapestries on the wood paneled walls by way of decoration.

"I have not eaten in here," Snape said matter-of-factly.

Through the double glass doors leading out of the dining room, was a small entryway and the front door. Snape waved a negligent hand at the wall sconces, and they ignited. He opened yet another set of double doors to their right to reveal the library. Hermione's eyes widened appreciatively.

"I thought you'd like this room." Snape smirked, but there was no malice in his words. Harry grinned.

"It's wonderful," Hermione sighed.

And to the consummate bookworm it was. Two walls consisted wholly of dark wood shelves which reached from floor to ceiling. They were filled with books of every description, both magical and Muggle. Hermione's hands itched to run themselves over the spines of the books nearest her. But she didn't dare to do so in front of her hovering host.

A third wall was almost all bookshelves, except for the built in fireplace, with its heavy mahogany mantle and cheerily crackling fire.

The fourth wall was all windows, affording a view of the Forest and plenty of natural light to read by during the day. And in the middle of the room, there were comfortable tapestried chairs in subtle reds and browns, and reading tables adorned with candlesticks for night reading.

It was the most perfect private reading space Hermione could ever imagine. And Harry had to tug at her to get her to leave that glorious room.

Across the entry way, Snape led his guests to the living room, a long, rectangular space that was full of light and had an air of homey comfort to it. On one end of it was a fireplace, set before by a long, red leather couch and low coffee table. Two wing back chairs were on either side of the walk-in fireplace. Its hearth was green soapstone, its mantle of carven oak.

The other end of the room held yet another couch of blue velvet, which was placed against one wall. Centered in the area was a wooden card table with chairs. The end wall was all windows, as in the library. And between the two room ends were yet another set of double doors leading to a stone porch fitted with comfortable wicker furniture.

"Why, this cottage is just wonderful!" Hermione enthused. "Surely, Professor Dumbledore used it for more than just a safe house."

"Indeed, he did," Snape said tightly. "It was his get-away, as well. He often came here over the summers."

Hermione felt mortified by her own tactlessness. How could she mention Dumbledore so casually? "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to bring up …" she began.

"No matter," Snape countered quickly. "I'll show you to your rooms."

Harry and Hermione followed him up the oak, carpeted staircase and onto the wood-floored hallway. "This is my room," Snape said, pointing to a closed door, nearest the head of the stairs. "There are three others. You may choose which two you both want. The fourth room will become the potions room."

Harry and Hermione nodded in understanding.

"I am tired now. I am going to my room to rest. I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir," the two intoned automatically. And he slipped into his room without another word.

Hermione ended up choosing a large, airy room with sea green walls, cream coloured carpet, and a large four-poster bed with a sunshine yellow coverlet.

Harry's room was done in dove grey and cream.

But neither of them really concerned themselves with anything but their beds at that moment. Tired from their trip and first meeting with their unwilling host, they each took to their beds for a much needed rest.

Hermione fell asleep thinking of Snape's pale, edgy face. It had been etched in pain. And despite her vow not to be concerned about him, she found she was anyway.

She knew he would chide her for such weakness. "Well, that's just tough, PROFESSOR," she murmured defiantly, as she rolled over and hugged a pillow to her. "You might be able to stop me expressing my true thoughts, but you can't invade my mind."

But she was wrong, for the disapproving face of Severus Snape continued to haunt her, even in her dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When Hermione awoke her room was dark. For a moment she felt disoriented. Then she remembered exactly where she was … and all she must do … and with and for whom.

_I've certainly got my work cut out for me_, she thought despondently.

And with a sigh, she sat up. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger. Then she smelled the good, brown aroma of beef gravy.

She was out of the bed and headed for the stairway in no time. She met Harry on the stairs, so they started down together.

"Did you rest well, Harry?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "But I'm starving."

"Me, too."

Upon entering the kitchen, Hermione and Harry saw that the table had been laid for dinner, and Snape was standing at the stove stirring something in a rather large pot. Hermione was struck anew at how pale he was.

So much so that …

"Good evening, sir," she said hastily. "Why don't I take over from here? You've fixed the meal. It is only fair that someone else should serve it."

Snape stared at her an instant as though he was trying to size her up. Hermione kept her face as neutral as possible, and braced herself for the acid reply she knew was on the tip of his tongue.

"As you wish, Miss Granger," he said, handing her a ladle with a graceful flourish.

As he turned to take a seat at he table, Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances.

_He must be ill_, Hermione thought. _He didn't chide me for my typical Gryffindor concern with "fairness" as he normally would have._ She fought the urge to shake her head in disbelief.

"The stew smells good," Harry said cautiously as Hermione ladled it up. Snape said nothing and his expression was as unreadable as ever.

For a while the three ate in silence. There was a loaf of fresh-baked bread, a platter of cheese, and cherry cobbler for dessert. Harry and Hermione ate their fill, but they noted that Snape ate very little.

"Shall I put on tea?" Hermione asked once the meal was over.

"I'll drink a cup," Harry said. Snape merely nodded absently.

"I've made a list for you, Potter," the dark man said suddenly. He pulled the list from his robes and handed it to Harry. "All of those ingredients should be in my private stores."

"But, sir," Harry said, slightly panicked. "The storage cabinet was blown apart in the battle. I don't think …"

"Precisely, Potter, you don't think," Snape snapped. "Did it not occur to you that I might have a private storage closet of my own hidden away in the castle?"

"No, sir," Harry ground out angrily. "I didn't think it my duty to know all your secrets."

But Snape only huffed derisively.

Hermione attempted to come in for the save as the two wizards glared daggers at one another. "I imagine the centaur assigned to guide Harry will be here at dawn." she said as casually as possible.

Snape was not fooled. "Miss Granger," he said icily, "I believe Mister Potter can handle himself without your protection from the nasty—what is it they call me? Oh, yes, the black bat of the dungeons."

"Sir," Hermione began.

"Hermione, don't," Harry said calmly, his hand covering hers for an instant. "He's right." Hermione nodded in acknowledgement, her lips drawn into a thin line of disapproval.

"I knew we'd have to have it out sooner or later, Snape," he continued, turning back to his former nemesis. Snape eyed Harry noncommittally.

"I guess now is as good a time as any," he agreed quietly. "Say whatever it is you wish to say."

Harry plunged right it. "I thought, sir, judging from the content of the memories you gave me, that all these years you didn't really hate me. Was I wrong to assume it was all an act?"

Snape regarded Harry coolly for a full thirty seconds.

"I am unsure how to answer that, Mister Potter," he admitted in surprisingly mild tones. "I suppose the best reply is that I do not hate you, but you are a reminder of some of my worst memories." Snape's eyes slid out of focus as he stared at the lit candle in the center of the table. "You embody to me my greatest regrets … my greatest losses. You do not mean to do it, but you are like a hot poker to my very heart."

Hermione and Harry both felt shocked at such an intimate admission coming from such an intensely private man. But they concealed their feelings.

After a few moments' quiet, Snape seemed to recover himself. His embarrassment was apparent by the way he averted his gaze from that of his companions.

"Sir," Harry finally said warily, "I hope that one day you'll be able to look past—well, all of that—and relate to me, as just … as just me."

Hermione inwardly cringed at Harry's stumbling statement. It sounded weak, heart-felt though she knew it to be. And she knew how Snape felt about weakness. But she was to be surprised.

"Enough, Potter," Snape said softly as he mechanically took a sip from his cup. There was no anger in the command.

Harry's eyes flitted to Hermione's for an instant, and he cleared his throat. "Well, I believe I'll go to bed, as I'll need to be up early."

Snape pointed to the folded parchment in Harry's hand. "The instructions to get into my private storage closet are written at the bottom of the list."

Harry inclined his head. "Goodnight," he said and withdrew.

"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione managed. Snape did not return the greeting.

Hermione felt she should follow Harry, but something kept her rooted to her chair. Somehow she could not bear to think of leaving Snape alone just then. She sat quietly drinking her tea and waiting for a dismissal that never came.

Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Snape, whose features were momentarily softened by the gentle, flickering candlelight. His less harsh countenance seemed no less secretive to her. But the blankness of his expression did not fool Hermione. She knew that he carried a world of hurt inside of him.

Someone had once said hell was being left alone with your regrets. Hermione thought Snape was the perfect personification of that damning sentiment. And that thought made her heart ache. But, as she knew he would not welcome any comfort from her, she held her tongue.

It was Snape who broke the silence between them.

"I was aware of what Voldemort was planning to do with me the night of the final battle," he said tonelessly. "I had seen it in his mind a few days before. So, I took an Antivenin potion and a Blood Coagulation draught before going to him at the Shrieking Shack.

I had planned to remain in the Shack for a couple of days, living on supplies I'd hidden there beforehand, before disappearing into the Forbidden Forest with no one the wiser."

"But, when Potter showed up, along with you and Weasley, I realised I could not stay where I was for more than a few hours with any certainty of getting away. So, I decided to play dead, if you will, so that the three of you would leave me alone long enough for me to make my escape."

Hermione's eyes were wide with wonder. Harry had been right about Snape knowing what Voldemort had planned for him! A million questions seemed to want to jump out of her mouth at once.

"Why did you give Harry your memories?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"For two reasons, Miss Granger," Snape answered without looking at her. "One, I knew that after I disappeared there would be a search for me. And I more than half hoped Potter would use the memories to exonerate me, thus giving me a better chance of staying out of Azkaban should I be caught …" He paused for a moment and ran a long-fingered hand over his weary face. Hermione sat on the edge of her seat.

"And the other reason, sir?" Hermione sat on the edge of her seat, and her voice shook with anticipation.

"I wanted Potter to know the truth … the whole of it … for his own sake, as well as my own. I felt fate had handed me my chance to at least attempt to make things right, so I took it."

Hermione felt awestruck. Snape had not wanted Lily's son to think too harshly of him. He'd wanted Harry to know how much he'd cared for her—how much he'd regretted his unknowing part in her death.

Hermione looked up to see Snape's eyes almost pleading with her. "You will not tell Potter what I've said, Miss Granger. Someday he will know all my reasoning … But I will be the one to tell him and no one else."

The words were a command, but Snape's tone told Hermione that he knew she was free to disregard his feelings on the matter if she so chose.

"Of course, sir," she choked out, for her tears were very near. "I will say nothing of this conversation to Harry or anyone else."

Snape pursed his lips and nodded slightly. "Thank you, Miss Granger, I appreciate your discretion on this matter."

Then he got up and put his cup and saucer in the sink. "If you would be so kind as to clean up here and bank the fire, I will now retire."

Even in the candle light Hermione could see that Snape was remarkably weaker.

"Yes, sir," she answered and got up taking two serving dishes with her.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger." Snape had paused in the doorway.

She turned from the sink and looked at him squarely. He did not look away.

"Goodnight, sir" she said plainly, respectfully.

And with that he melted into the shadows haunting the pantry without a sound.

Hermione did the washing up while in something of a daze. Had Snape just spoken with her as though she was his equal? Had he really entrusted her with something very personal and very secret about his life?

Was the sky falling?

Hermione felt a wave of emotion she could only identify as sorrow well up in her heart. His life had been so sad … so full of disappointment and pain.

He had made terrible mistakes in his youth, and he'd lived with the consequences ever since. She wondered if he would ever find freedom. She wondered if he was even capable of enjoying the rest of his life after all he had seen and done.

He had been used and abused by everyone around him.

_And yes, that included Dumbledore_ … Hermione felt like a traitor even thinking such things. _But it's true!_ she thought with a defiant little jerk of her chin.

Not that Snape had been unwilling to work for the great wizard and former Headmaster of Hogwarts. He had. But Hermione was certain within her own heart that Dumbledore had taken full advantage of his guilty conscience. For, if nothing else, Dumbledore had been an expert tactician.

And he had added to Snape's pain and culpability by forcing him to kill him. Surely he must have known what that would mean to his all ready beleaguered potions master. Surely he must have known … but it had not mattered … not as much as winning the war.

Yes, winning had been important, as anyone would agree … much more important than any individual tragedy, but still … Had Dumbledore at least given Snape absolution for his abject sorrow for his crimes?

Harry had told her of his harshness long ago when Snape had returned broken and frantic because of James' and Lily's deaths and his inadvertent part in it. But there had been no scene in which Dumbledore shown his spy forgiveness. How could he be so callously unfeeling?

Had there ever been i anyone /i who, for even one instant, took into consideration Snape's needs or desires? Had anyone thought about his feelings? No! She was sure no one had. They had simply let him drive himself on and on …

"It's unconscionable!" Hermione said to herself heatedly. "Positively unforgivable!"

And that was why he never expected anything but the worst of people. It was all he had ever seen. Hermione could not imagine how it would be to live life without any small comfort, without love and light and friendship of any kind.

Was it any wonder Snape was so horrid? In all his life he had never known true happiness, except for the brief, stolen moments he had had with Lily. And even she had deserted him.

Oh, Hermione couldn't exactly blame her. Snape had been a puzzle to her, just as he was to anyone else. Lily had been young, and she had not understood his pain and how it had driven him.

And she certainly could not have known how much her friendship had meant to him, or how much her withdrawal of it would affect him. She had never experienced the desolation of soul that Severus Snape had known all his life.

Hermione felt a tear fall unbidden down her cheek. She did not try to stop it and its fellows from coming.

_And the worst part of it is, I don't know if there is anything anyone can do to help him now! _she thought miserably.

After all, he had built such strong walls about himself out of self-defense that most likely no one could get through them.

_Least of all me_ … she sniffed.

The dishes were done, but Hermione could not think of going to bed. She was far too harrowed up in spirit to think of sleep. She needed to relieve her feelings.

Then it occurred to her … then she remembered what Magorian had said to her back in the clearing before he'd led her and Harry to Snape.

"_Saving Severus Snape is your destiny, and his_," he had said. Hermione felt a shock run through her once again. She turned her eyes up to her Director.

"I don't know what Magorian meant by that," she said softly, reverently. "But I think You do, so I will leave it up to You to work it out."

Immediately the same sense of peace she had felt when she'd submitted her plea to the unseen Director in Gryffindor Tower for a sign came upon her once more. She closed her eyes and let her tension out with her breath. She knew it was safe to be led by that peace.

Suddenly Hermione felt very tired. She pulled herself out of her chair and made for the stairs. She barely made it to her bed before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning when Hermione entered the kitchen she found Snape sitting at the table just finishing his tea. Harry was all ready gone.

Snape wordlessly handed her a note Harry had left. It indicated that he hoped to be back no later than the next evening with the listed supplies.

"Good morning, sir," Hermione said as she finished reading and took her seat. She reached for a piece of toast and began buttering it.

"Good morning," Snape intoned blandly.

Then, he slid an open book to her across the span of the table between them. "That is the potion you will be assisting me in brewing." He pointed with one long index finger to indicate the name at the top of the page. "You might wish to look it over. Though it is not complicated to brew, it will take some time."

"Venin Detoxification Draught?" Hermione read, her eyes scanning the ingredients and procedure quickly.

"Yes, the night Nagini attacked me I had taken anti venin, which negated the immediate fatal effects of the snake's poison. But, what I didn't know at the time is that Nagini's venom causes long-term effects in her victims if they happen to survive the initial bite. Thus, my wounds have not completely healed." His had lightly touched the bandages at his throat. "They are still open, and I am greatly weakened by the remnant of poison still flowing in my veins."

"How awful!" Hermione said, clearly horrified.

"Quite," Snape said tersely, eying her with distaste. "This potion should remove the last vestiges of toxin in my system. Then my wounds should heal and my strength return."

"'Should'? You mean you don't know for sure it will heal you?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"No," he answered shortly.

"Dear God!" she exclaimed. "You should be at St. Mungo's right now, sir!"

"That is hardly a practical suggestion, Miss Granger," he said disdainfully. "You forget I am too weak to travel. And I certainly cannot Apparate."

"How on earth did you make it here, sir, the night of the attack?" she asked.

"It was not an easy task, I assure you. I had barely enough strength to get past Dumbledore's Apparation barriers, and then I Apparated here.

"It is frankly a miracle I did not splinch myself. Thankfully, the antivenin kept the worst of the weakening effects at bay for a time. I was not as weak as you see me to be now. From all I have read since my experience, the venom causes progressive weakness until its victim eventually expires."

Hermione shuddered in sympathy. "Then that is what you meant when you implied time was of the essence." Hermione looked as frightened as she felt. And Snape addressed that fear head on.

"Come now, Miss Granger," he said coldly. "You cannot fail me now. Do not let fear overtake you. You must be fit to assist me in the brewing of this potion."

"I know, sir." There was no edge to her voice. "Do not worry; I am prepared to begin brewing as soon as Harry returns, if you are up to it."

Snape regarded her with hooded eyes. "You are dangerously close to displaying concern for me, Miss Granger."

"So what if I am?" she replied indignantly. "I know I said I'd not bother, but I can't help it. I AM concerned about you, so I suppose you'll just have to put up with it." Her had begun to raise.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Calm yourself, girl," he said with a bored wave of his hand.

Hermione mentally shook herself. It couldn't be good for him to hear her yelling. "Of course, I am sorry, sir," she said meekly.

"Oh, do stop coddling me, Miss Granger!" He was clearly exasperated. "I'm not dead yet!"

Hermione squared her shoulders. "And you shan't be, if I've anything to say about it." Her cheeks were red and her eyes were flashing.

Snape was clearly taken aback by the force of feeling in her words. "I see," he said after an appraising silence. "I am much reassured."

Hermione's eyes snapped to Snape's face. But she could detect no mocking in it.

"Good," she said confidently. "Now, I am going up to the fourth bedroom to begin preparing the potions room." She jumped up and levitated the dishes to the sink, and set them to washing up magically.

"I will join you," Snape said as he stood to his feet.

"Don't you think you should rest?" Hermione asked pointedly.

"You are coddling again," he growled.

"Fine," she snapped. "I suppose you will do as you wish anyway."

"Yes, that is the general idea," he said with a hint of mirth about his eyes. "Shall we?" He gestured toward the doorway.

Hermione preceded him out of the room without further protest.

Three hours later Snape and Hermione had almost completely transformed the fourth bedroom. The bed had been Transfigured into a large worktable with magical burners, the chairs into work stools. The rug had been rolled up and levitated out of the room entirely. The dresser became a huge storage cabinet for their tools and ingredients.

Snape worked as hard as Hermione, despite the fact that he was obviously in pain—and despite Hermione's constant insistence that he sit down.

"For heaven's sake! Why is it so difficult for you to admit you need to rest and just sit down!" she snapped irritatedly.

Snape smirked at her. "Does it not occur to you that the more you push me to rest, the more likely it is that I will not do it?" he asked coolly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! You are willing to exhaust yourself, and cause yourself pain just to show me who is boss?" Her hands were on her hips now, and she was practically nose to nose with her former professor.

But Snape only stepped away and crossed his arms over his chest and smiled nastily.

"Oh!" Hermione cried. "You are the most exasperating man I have ever known!" She stomped her foot and spun away from him.

"Really, Miss Granger," Snape said with a hint of laughter in his tone. "'The most exasperating'? I hardly think that a witch of your age and limited experience qualifies to bestow such a dubious honour on me."

"I am not as naïve as you might think, sir," she began officiously.

"Please, do not protest something so very obvious," he retorted caustically.

"How dare you!" she began heatedly. And then she saw the amused gleam in his eye.

Hermione blanched.

"You have been baiting me all along!" she accused, her eyes narrowing, her voice one notch above dangerous.

"I?" Snape queried in mock surprise. "I assure you, Miss Granger, you do me a grave injustice. I do not 'bait' people."

"You--! You--!" Hermione was bursting with frustration. Her face was red and a small vein in her forehead was pulsing.

All thoughts of Snape's health and the damage she could be doing by yelling at him were wiped out by her great agitation.

"Ah, ah! Careful now! You will hurt yourself." Snape said silkily.

"Aaaaaaahhhh!" And she bolted from the room, hair flying, and expression wild with rage.

She had gotten to the head of the stairs when she heard the distinct reverberation of deep, almost raucous laughter chasing her.

The sound stopped her abruptly in her tracks, and all her fury evaporated immediately. Inclining her head like a confused puppy on whose nose has just landed a butterfly, Hermione listened with disbelief.

_That cannot be Snape_! She thought in exclamation points.

But she knew it could not be anyone else. A smile spread slowly across her face.

"I made Snape laugh!" she murmured, still grinning from ear to ear. "I should put that on my resume'!"

Then she skipped down the stairs to prepare lunch, her own delighted laughter on her lips.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Lunch was an outwardly sober affair, at least for Hermione. Snape had apparently recovered from his fit of mirth, and was now acting as though it had never happened.

Hermione, on the other hand, was smiling inside at the recollection, though she sat demurely and silently eating the chicken salad sandwiches and crisps she had laid out for their noon meal.

She toyed around with the idea of bringing up the subject just to tease him, but somehow could not bring herself to do so. Snape looked more wrung out than he had ever before since her arrival. He seemed to barely have the strength to lift the food to his mouth.

Hermione's amusement quickly turned to worry. She didn't know what to say or do, so she did nothing. She just continued watching the quiet, pallid wizard surreptitiously.

She did not dare to say anything remotely approaching an instruction to lie down … until he stumbled as he stood from the table and nearly sprawled across it.

"Sir!" shot out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Are you all right?" She jumped out of her seat and took hold of one of his arms in her alarm.

"I'm fine, Miss Granger," he panted. Perspiration broke out on his forehead, and he was now pale to his lips.

Hermione gave up all pretense as she helped him back to his seat. "No, you are not," she said firmly. "Do you want a Replenishment potion, sir? Just tell me where it is …"

"Miss Granger, stop hovering," Snape rasped. "In that cabinet over there." He pointed with a shaky hand. "You will find the potion I need … the brown bottle."

Hermione hurried over to the indicated cabinet. But as she tried to hand the bottle to Snape his hands were shaking so violently that he could not grasp it.

"This is ridiculous! Let me help you," she said authoritatively as she quickly pulled the stopper from the bottle, cradled his head in the crook of her arm and gently put the potion to his trembling lips.

She fed it to him slowly and carefully. It was proof of his debilitated condition that Snape didn't put up any resistance to Hermione's ministrations.

Further, he didn't seem to feel compelled to wrench away from her the moment the last drop of potion passed his lips. In fact, he closed his eyes and let her hold him for several moments as the potion took effect.

"There now," Hermione whispered. "Just rest a moment, sir."

After a bit more time, Snape's breathing evened and he slowly opened his eyes … and black met brown. Hermione felt a ripple of emotion run through her as Snape gazed at her with no mocking and no derision. He seemed so open. She felt he trusted her.

"Oh …" she breathed. She wasn't sure what she meant by it.

She just knew that something was happening between them, though she couldn't define it.

Then the moment passed and Snape's eyes sharpened with awareness. The old distrust and fearful expectation filled them once more.

Hermione felt a strange ache build up inside her as she watched him close her out.

Snape closed his eyes and turned his head in her arms slightly. "I am better now," he said quietly. "You may release me."

"Of course …" she said as she stepped away slowly.

Snape took a breath and stood shakily to his feet. "I believe I will go upstairs now, Miss Granger," he said stiffly.

He moved slowly to the door. Hermione fought the impulse to take his arm and guide him. "And thank you for your … timely assistance," he said so softly she almost didn't catch it.

He let his eyes flicker to hers briefly and then he was gone.

Hermione felt awestruck. What had just happened here?

She went on autopilot as she began the clean up of the lunch dishes still on the table. Her mind was still on the scene she had just participated in a few minutes ago with Snape. Had it really happened? Had she cradled his head in her arms and fed him a potion?

Had Snape allowed her to do it?

Indeed, he had. And on top of it, he had thanked her for her help.

Was Hell freezing over?

Hermione put the last of the dishes in the sink and fell into her chair once again.

_I cannot believe that just happened_. And she remembered the look in his eyes … the one small moment in time when he had seemed to open himself to her … It made her shiver to think of it.

_This is nonsense_! she thought snappishly.

And she grabbed up _Moste Potente Potions_ and walked resolutely out of the kitchen and directly to the library.

But after she was settled in one of the comfortable chairs, the afternoon sunlight warming her, she found she could not properly attend to her reading. She could not stop picturing Snape's eyes gazing trustingly up at her.

The incident had lasted only a brief few seconds. But, it had been incredible to see him looking at her with no pretense … no walls standing between them. It had been devastatingly simple, yet so very profound … frightening, but, at the same time thrilling.

"I am making too much of this," Hermione told herself. And she settled the book against her knees at a more advantageous angle for reading. "Snape was not himself. He would never have allowed himself to be so open with anyone, let alone me, unless he was in great need. That's all there is to it." She paused, staring out the windows at the dark Forest without really seeing it.

"Oh, I've work to do!" she chided herself.

But it took her another twenty minutes to wrestle her mind into study mode.

It would have surprised her very much to know that Snape was, at that same moment, thinking about The Incident, as well …

_What was she thinking_?

Hermione had been so solicitous, so careful. She had spoken so gently and so kindly.

"Ridiculous!" Snape murmured, running a hand over his pale brow and trying to shake the memory off.

But that was not easy to do. He had not known anyone to treat him with such care … not Dumbledore, who had known him best, or Madam Pomfrey, who had always been perfunctory and efficient when he'd been in the hospital wing after Death Eater duties had left him injured.

Even his own mother, who had loved him as well as she could, considering how miserable her life had been, had not shown him such warmth of emotion, such consideration of his pain.

Much as he hated to admit it, he could not help but be affected by Hermione's actions.

Oh, yes! At the time he had tried to behave as though untouched by her display. He had been as stiff as possible, in light of the fact that he'd felt he would pass out with the effort. But then he had looked into her eyes … He could only hope Hermione had been too caught up in the moment to notice any chink in his armour. He could not imagine what dire consequences he might suffer otherwise.

That thought made him almost panic.

"It was nothing!" he chastised himself gruffly. "By tomorrow she will have forgotten the whole matter entirely.

_I hope_ …

Or, did he?

Snape did not leave his room again that day. Hermione knocked on his door twice, once to ask if he was coming to supper.

"No! Leave me!"

And again, to bring him a tray …

"Just leave it on the table, Miss Granger. What part of 'leave me' don't you understand?"

He had not heard from her again, but he had eaten the food.

The rest of the night, he had slept only to have his rest disturbed by dreams.

His night visions were of Hermione's gentle touch and soft, comforting voice. He saw her eyes, so full of concern, looking deeply into his sown. And he felt free to gaze upon her—to let his shields down. He was without fear and doubt. He felt free to receive her care … and he felt his heart swell with thankfulness.

"There now," she whispered tenderly, once again. Only now, she not only held his head in her arms, but stroked his hair back from his face. "Just rest, Severus. I will take care of you."

Then, she leaned in, as if to kiss him and …

Knock! Knock! Knock!

He was startled awake by the obnoxious sound. Snape opened his eyes to see the sunlight streaming through his windows. He'd forgotten to draw the curtains.

"Sir?" Hermione's voice was plaintive, hesitant. "Are you …" She paused. "Are you awake?" He knew she had meant to say "all right".

Snape groaned softly. "Yes, Miss Granger," he snapped.

"Well, breakfast is ready." She sounded relieved and not at all taken aback by Snape's attitude. "Will you come down, or would you like me to bring you a tray?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I am not an invalid, girl! I'll be down in a moment if you'll leave me to make ready."

"Fine," Hermione shot back. Then her heels clicked away from his door.

Snape sat up slowly. It had not escaped his notice that his body did not ache nearly so much as did his heart.

"What is wrong with me?" he thought dazedly.

But as this was a question he did not really feel ready to have answered, he did not ponder it further.

A half an hour later, Snape appeared in the kitchen dressed as severely as ever and looking pale and pained and bad tempered.

"Good morning, sir," Hermione said through tight lips.

Snape merely grunted as he sat down to pour his cup of tea.

"Harry should be back today," she said into her own teacup.

_What's the matter with you_? she thought at him.

"Yes," Snape gritted out. "I am all aflutter with anticipation."

Hermione eyed him critically. "I studied the potion yesterday afternoon …" she tried.

"Very good, Miss Granger," he retorted mockingly, his face an ugly sneer. "Did you finish your History of Magic essay as well?"

Hermione blinked at him confusedly. Then she firmly replaced her teacup on its saucer with a clatter.

"That's it!" she cried.

Snape's eyes narrowed at her. "Is it?" he snarled.

"Yes, it is! Now, would you mind telling me what your problem might be?" She was standing now, hands on hips, eyes blazing.

"I did not have a problem, Miss Granger, until now." His attitude was infuriatingly unflappable. He went on sipping his tea.

"That is a patently false statement! You've been treating me with uttermost disdain since yesterday evening."

Snape gave a cursory glance. "And how is that different than any other time I've been subjected to your … company?" His eyes challenged her.

"You know what I mean, sir! We were getting along together quite well before …"

"Were we?" His eyebrow shot up quizzically.

Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. "Why are you being so difficult?! What did I do to set you on your ear?"

Snape's eyes snapped to hers. "Nothing!" he spat out. "Drop this!"

"I'd be very happy to do so! But I refuse to be treated like a non-entity if we are going to work together on this potion!"

"Miss Granger," he replied, giving her his hardest stare. "You are behaving like a child."

At this, Hermione boiled over. "And you are behaving like an ungrateful bastard!" she shouted. And she stomped from the room without so much as a backward glance.

Snape stared after her, non-plussed. "What is wrong with her?" he asked the air, as he contemplated the plate before him.

_What is wrong with me?_ Hermione thought as she ran up the stairs, angry tears coursing down her cheeks. She wiped at them with one hand.

"And what is with the tears?" She stared in horror at her wetted fingers.

When she got to her room, she plopped down on her bed, still inspecting her hand.

"He's right, you know," she said to her hand and then flung it into her lap disgustedly. "His behaviour toward me wasn't any different this morning than usual." She thought a moment. "Unless I count yesterday in the kitchen …"

This thought gave her pause. "No." She shook her head. "No! I am not so stupid as to think that one … civil incident between us meant anything! The man was practically fainting at the time, for heaven's sake!"

_But there was that one moment_ … her mind supplied unhelpfully, _when he looked at you_ …

"Nonsense!" Hermione rejected that out of hand. "That was nothing! He was not himself."

_Why do you care so much anyway_? Damn, that little voice!

Good question. With a frustrated sigh, Hermione threw herself down on her bed.

"Might as well do this now," she murmured.

She had rarely been one to lie to herself. And as such she had to admit that that moment in the kitchen the day before had—perhaps—meant more to her than she'd at first realised.

From the beginning of her school career at Hogwarts, Hermione had had an overwhelming desire to prove herself as a witch … first to herself … and then everyone else. But Professor Snape had been a special case, as far as she had been concerned. For, though he was unpleasant—in the extreme—he was also brave, good at heart—

"Good at heart!" she mocked herself.

And then she thought about his sacrifices …. the fact that he had given his entire adult life to helping and protecting Harry and defeating Voldemort--all at great cost to himself.

"Yes," she said softly, "good at heart."

"Of course, he had never made any bones about not respecting her own intelligence and particular talents. He had even at one point in her fourth year, made fun of her appearance when Malfoy had enlarged her front teeth during a typical confrontation between the Slytherin prince and Harry.

That had hurt … even three years later.

Yes, Snape had gotten to her even then. She knew it was unreasonable to care whether such an irascible, stubborn, and deliberately rude man had a high opinion of her, but she just couldn't help it. She couldn't help feeling that his good opinion was worth having.

And when he'd looked at her yesterday—seemingly without reserve, or rancour, and had let her help him, it had affected her—made her hope against hope that he didn't really despise her, that perhaps he respected her, if even just a little.

"I guess Harry and I have more in common than I thought," she said grimly as she remembered the tense conversation she'd witnessed between Snape and her closest friend only yesterday.

"Snape is just Snape," she reminded herself firmly, sliding off the bed slowly. "We may or may not have had a moment. But it's silly of me to think Snape would change toward me over a few moments of relative friendliness between us." Then she stopped herself. "And friendliness is probably pushing it."

She moved toward the door reluctantly. "Oh, I just can't go down there!" she cried. "I have made such a fool of myself! I can't imagine what Snape must be thinking of me right now." She stood indecisively in front of her door with her hand on the doorknob. "Maybe I will just go and make sure the potions room is ready."

Glad of any excuse to keep her from having to see Snape again at present, she headed for the potions room gratefully.

Down in the kitchen, Snape was pondering their confrontation, too.

Directly after Hermione had run unceremoniously off in her huff, he had tried to apply himself to his breakfast. (After a few bites, he vaguely noted that she was a reasonably good cook. The scrambled eggs were fluffy, not runny. The toast was perfectly browned and the tea was strong without being acidic.) But, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just done the equivalent of disemboweling a perfectly innocent, fluffy white rabbit.

Why had he had to snap at her like that? She had only been trying to make conversation. Why had he felt so uncomfortable in her presence? For there was no doubt he had been uncomfortable.

Yesterday, in the kitchen …

"It must have unnerved me more than I thought," he said under his breath.

Certainly he could not pretend it had not happened. He knew that. But now he knew that that was exactly what he had tried to do.

_Apparently I was successful_, he thought grimly. _She ran, didn't she? She's leaving me soundly alone, isn't she? _

Missions accomplished.

_So, why am I so unsettled? Why do I wish I hadn't chased her off? _

He shook his head at the inexplicability.

Hermione, meanwhile, stayed in the potions room a full two hours studying the various and sundry potions references she had brought up from the library. She told herself she was using her time wisely. But she knew she was only avoiding Snape. In fact, she hoped she could stay away until Harry returned. Perhaps with Harry at her side she would feel less awkward.

"But why would I feel awkward?" she wondered out loud.

But she knew why …

Whether she liked it or not … whether Snape liked it or not, something had changed between them.

He had always been difficult and acidic. And she had been the brunt of his meanness many times before, but it had not affected her like this … She had thought his treatment of her in her school days unkind, unnecessary, and sometimes cruel. But she had always easily bounced back from it.

But not this time. This time she'd felt hurt.

"Hurt by Snape?" she whispered to herself harshly. "Am I daft?" She shook her head. "Oh, I wish that yesterday in the kitchen had never happened!" she plopped down on one of the stools, perched her elbows on the workbench, and dropped her face in her hands. "No matter how many times I tell myself it meant nothing; it did! It meant something to me …" she whispered miserably.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Hermione started.

Damn!

"Come in," she said spiritlessly.

_Please don't be Snape! _

"I'm back, Hermione."

It was Harry. He looked exhausted, but happy. And he was carrying his knapsack containing, presumably, the items on Snape's list.

Hermione threw herself at him smilingly. "I thought you would be longer."

"I really pushed it to get here as fast as I could," he said, patting her on her back and laughing. "Was it really that bad being here alone with Snape?" he asked.

Then he saw her face. His eyes narrowed suspiciously and the laughter died in his throat. "He gave you trouble, then, did he?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Hermione fibbed as she rearranged her face to reflect her words.

Harry stared at her disbelievingly, but decided not to press the issue. "I just saw Snape, by the way. He was in the kitchen. He doesn't look so well, Hermione," Harry said in low tones.

"I know," Hermione agreed. "I think we'd better get this potion brewed as soon as possible."

"I agree," Harry replied as he headed toward the door. "I say we get some lunch and you and Snape closet yourselves away directly after."

Hermione straightened up and smoothed her robes as if in preparation. "I am ready if Snape is amenable."

Harry nodded and followed her out of the room, leaving behind his pack for later unpacking.

"Did you see Ginny and Ron," Hermione asked in a small voice.

Harry kept walking. "No," he said shortly. "I tried, but neither would see me." Hermione said no more.

Harry and Hermione entered the kitchen to find a quiet and withdrawn Snape. He did not seem surly, only thoughtful.

Lunch was already on the table—barley soup and roast beef sandwiches—and Snape was at his place looking at a i Potions Monthly /i magazine as he absently spooned up his soup. He did not greet his two guests.

Hermione decided to take her courage in hand. "Sir, if you are up to it, I would like to start on the potion right after lunch." She hoped he hadn't heard the nervousness in her voice.

Snape did not look up from his reading. "As you wish, Miss Granger," he said casually, as he turned a page.

The party of three ate their lunch without speaking. Snape really did not look well. Harry fidgeted with his napkin after he had finished.

"Sir," Harry began, "if you'd rather I could assist Hermione while you …" He paused fumbling for a word that didn't make Snape seem weak.

"While I what, Potter?" Snape's eyes were glittering. He was clearly enjoying Harry's dilemma.

"Well, I thought perhaps I might, that is to say, perhaps you had better …"

"I know what you are trying to say, Potter." Snape finally let his former student off the hook. "I assure you I would not find rest knowing YOU were anywhere near a potion I will be expected to drink." He smiled nastily. Harry reddened with anger.

"Sir!" Harry began in protest.

"Please, Potter." Snape lifted a graceful hand to stop the flow of words. "I am certain I can safely brew today." Harry clenched his jaw as Hermione watched the whole scene breathlessly.

Snape stood and headed to the door. He stopped, his back to the two at the table. He seemed to be debating something.

"But I appreciate the motive behind your offer," he said, apparently forcing the words out. Then he slipped quickly away.

Harry looked incredulously at Hermione, whose eyes were wide with shock.

"Did he just say something civil to me?" he asked slowly.

Hermione pinched her arm deliberately. "No, I am not dreaming. And, yes, I believe he did."

"I can't believe it," Harry said, laughing nervously. "I'm not sure what to think of that."

Hermione shrugged. "I guess I had better get up to the potions room. I'm sure he is waiting."

Harry only nodded. He did not notice Hermione's departure. In fact, it would be a full quarter of an hour before he could pull himself out of his stunned thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As Hermione had surmised, Snape was waiting for her. He was unpacking Harry's knap sack and stocking the floor to ceiling storage cabinet with the enlarged ingredients and equipment with deft, deliberate movements.

She entered the room quietly, and immediately reached for a vial of dragon's blood and held it up to Snape to place in the cabinet according to his own preference. He took the offering without a word. He seemed uncomfortable—not angry—just uncomfortable.

Hermione did not know what to do or say, so she continued to reach for items to hand to Snape in silence. She was bound and determined she would not give the dark man one more reason to ridicule her.

But, as they continued to work, Snape seemed to become more and more agitated. At first, Hermione thought perhaps her former professor was feeling unwell again. She eyed him nervously, mentally preparing herself for his possible collapse.

Then …

"Miss Granger." His voice was tightly controlled. He had stopped work, but did not look upon her.

"Yes, sir," she answered warily.

He kept his eyes averted from her, though she stared at him frankly.

"I feel it incumbent upon me to address my behaviour towards you this morning," he said somewhat tersely.

"Oh?" Hermione tried for nonchalant, but she knew her voice was too high. She reached for a packet of heliotrope to give herself an excuse to turn away from him.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. He did not take the offered package. "I was, I think, a bit hasty … What I mean to say is … I know you were only trying to …" His pale cheeks held two spots of crimson, his eyes were hooded, as though he was trying to shut out some of his discomfort. "I feel I was unnecessarily gruff with you."

Hermione snorted and crossed her arms in front of her. She let a grim smile turn up the corners of her mouth. "Were you?" she asked sarcastically.

Snape's eyes narrowed angrily. "I am trying to apologise, Miss Granger, in case you have failed to notice," he growled.

"Yes, sir, I noticed," Hermione said, her expression and voice falsely sweet. "The ineptitude of your attempt makes it impossible to miss."

Snape reddened all the more, but he did not blow up as Hermione expected. "You are not going to make this easy for me, are you?" he gritted out.

Hermione snorted again. "And why should I? You've never given me an easy moment in your presence throughout our acquaintance!"

Snape inclined his head in acceptance. "Perhaps not. But now I wish to properly apologise for any discomfort I caused you." And with that he took the heliotrope and abruptly turned back to the cabinet.

Hermione felt regret wash over her. He had honestly meant to put things right between them, and she had summarily shut him down out of some misplaced need to wreak her revenge on him.

i I shouldn't try to play his game, /i she thought, shame enveloping her. i I am so clearly out of my league. /i 

"Sir?"

He did not respond, but only continued to arrange the cabinet more forcefully than before.

"Sir?" Hermione laid her hand on his arm and he startled, without pulling away. At least she had his attention.

"I am sorry. I appreciate your apology, really. Thank you," she said softly.

Her hand was still on his arm. She could fell his warmth through his robes. She felt him tremble slightly. She could not see his face, as he still had it turned away from her.

"Thank you," he said in almost strangled tones.

Then he turned to look at her. Hermione dropped her hand. She could still feel his warmth.

"Shall we finish putting this cabinet to rights?" His obsidian eyes were piercing her intently. She did not recognise the emotion behind them.

"Yes, sir," she agreed and eagerly turned back to the workbench. She felt she could stand his intense gaze no longer.

"I would like you to stop calling me, 'sir'". He paused. Hermione froze in place. "We will be working together closely, and I am no longer your teacher …" he said by way of explanation.

Hermione turned what she hoped was a casual look his way. "How shall I address you, then?" she asked.

He was staring at her, but his look gave her no clue as to his thought.

"I think 'Severus' will do." Hermione gulped in shock and Snape, quick to catch her at it, smirked at her.

"As you wish," she said, drawing herself up. "And you must call me 'Hermione'."

"Fine," he replied smoothly. "Let us continue our work then, Hermione."

She felt amazed at how easily he used her given name.

"Gladly, Severus," she said. But she didn't sound nearly as confident using his name.

"You will get used to it," Snape said, as he opened a potions kit and pulled a small ladle out to inspect it.

"Yes, sir … I mean, Severus. I suppose I will," she replied dolefully.

Snape only chuckled, but as it was good-natured, Hermione found herself chuckling as well.

The two worked in silence and, in no time, the storage cabinet was in order.

"Shall we take a break or move right to brewing?" she asked as she pulled i Moste Potente Potions /i from an inside pocket of her robes.

"I do not require a break," Snape said stiffly. "But if you are tired …"

"Certainly not!" Hermione exclaimed, eying the now slyly smiling Snape.

"Then let us begin."

Hermione watched with poorly hidden fascination as her former professor poured a measure of spider's legs into a mortar and began to grind it with the pestle expertly. He had not used any kind of measuring tool.

"I am a master of potions with many years experience, Hermione," he said as if he had read her mind. "I have a feel for measuring. And, if I am not very much mistaken, you will develop that same ability one day, as well."

Hermione smiled and was rewarded with a small, "smirkless" smile in return.

From then on, the master and his assistant worked in relative silence. Hermione was able to anticipate Snape's every move and be there to help as needed. Thus, two hours later the potion that Hermione hoped would save Snape's life was set to a gentle simmer.

"Now, we must leave it for forty-five minutes," Snape said in his familiar classroom voice as he pulled the stirring rod out of the cauldron.

"Shall we have tea?" Hermione suggested, wiping her hands on a towel.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Come," Snape rumbled.

Harry poked his head in. "I thought the two of you might want tea …" His voice trailed off as he took in Snape's forbidding glare.

"Potter," Snape said, obviously trying to contain his tone. "You are just in time. The potion is simmering, so Hermione and I were just discussing the possibility of a spot of tea."

Harry's eyes widened slightly at Snape's use of Hermione's first name. "Good," he replied in polite but clipped tones. And he levitated the tea tray before him and set it on the far end of the workbench. "I'll just leave it here, then."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, "why don't you stay and have tea with us?"

Harry smiled, but shook his head." I am a bit tired from my trip. I believe I will go lie down for a while."

These were his words, but Hermione knew he was just uncomfortable around Snape. And Hermione couldn't help but believe Snape was relieved to hear Harry's refusal. She wanted to shake them both.

"I'll come back for the tray later. Do you want your supper up here, or will you come down?"

"The potion will be completed after its second brewing," Snape said blandly. "So, we shall not be much longer than another couple of hours. If it is amenable with Hermione, I believe we will be downstairs for the meal."

Harry's eyes snapped to Hermione's face. She read his, "Why the hell is he calling you by your given name?" look clearly. She only gave her head a little shake and pursed her lips.

Snape, for his part, looked extremely amused at Harry's discomfiture.

"That will be fine," Hermione affirmed as she gave Snape a critical glance.

"Fine," Harry said a bit too brightly. "I will see you in a bit." And he skittered out the room, leaving it bathed in Hermione's disapproving silence.

Snape cast a very self-satisfied look her way. Her glare turned his countenance almost sheepish.

"I am trying, you know." His tone was only slightly defensive. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

Hermione sighed," I know …" She turned to the tea service. "Shall I pour out?"

Snape inclined his head in agreement. Without thinking, Hermione added two lumps of sugar—no milk—to his cup. Snape's expression was one of amusement as she handed him his tea.

"Thank you," he said gently.

Hermione's smile was somewhat shy. "You are welcome."

At that moment, Snape pinned Hermione with such an intense look that she felt her stomach drop to her toes. But, however uncomfortable she felt, she found she could not break her gaze from his. His depthless, black eyes were mesmerising. And she sensed this moment was more important than what had happened in the kitchen the day before. She did not dare look away.

And for an instant, she saw a flicker of raw emotion in the inky blackness. He was now deliberately opening himself up to her. This was no accidental breach in his protective armour. For he was not nigh on fainting. She was certain there was something in that gaze meant just for her. He was trying to tell her something.

But before she could fully identify the feeling behind it, the moment was over. Hermione gave a little gasp.

What had she seen? There had been pain, even fear, but there was something more …

_What was it_? she wondered in frustration.

"Severus?" she questioned … But he broke eye contact with her suddenly and busied himself with his teacup.

He cleared his throat. "Well, I hope Potter found your fiancé, Weasley, well upon his return to Hogwarts." Snape's voice was strained, as though it hurt him to say the words.

Hermione looked down. "Harry did not see Ron, I am afraid," she said morosely.

"Oh?" Snape inquired with a disinterestedness he did not feel.

"No," Hermione countered as she began to straighten the tea service.

"I am surprised," Snape replied, lifting an eyebrow. "I thought certainly he would check on his friend's progress."

"He tried, but Ron would not see him," she sighed.

"I apologise, Hermione," Snape said with a wave of his hand. "This is none of my business. I do not wish to pry."

"No," Hermione was quick to say. "I don't mind talking about it. In fact, I want to." She sounded surprised at her own admission.

Snape, noticing her reaction, chuckled. "As you wish."

And before she knew it, Hermione was pouring the whole story out, while Snape listened intently. She even told him about Harry's argument with Ginny. Snape felt vaguely impressed at Potter's determination to find him, even at the risk of losing the woman he loved.

"It certainly wasn't my intention to hurt Ron, but he just doesn't seem to understand how important this is to me!" She was pacing now, and Snape followed her every move like a cat watching a bit of string being dandled before it, his expression carefully composed. "It just makes me wonder …" She stopped and bit her lip in contemplation.

"It makes you wonder what exactly, Hermione?" Snape asked mildly, belying his real feelings.

She stopped pacing and seemed to be thinking out her next words carefully. "I don't know. I've always known Ron's got a temper. After all, we have had a few run-ins before this one. He can be so stubborn! But it's more than that …" Snape remained silent.

"He is childish and he goes to such extremes …" She paused to look at Snape, whose only encouragement was a nod. "I just don't think—no, I know I don't want to spend the rest of my life deflecting Ron's ridiculous ultimatums!" She finished in a rush.

"I see," Snape said noncommittally. But inside he felt a strange thrill. He wasn't sure he liked what that might imply.

"He told me he would consider our engagement off if I went on this mission with Harry. And at the time, it was extremely hurtful to me. Harry told me I needn't worry. Ron would come around. He always does. But …" She stopped and worried the button at the throat of her robes with her fingers.

"But?" It was the only indication that Snape was interested in her conclusion, though he really had so much he wished to say.

"But," Hermione continued carefully, "I don't think I want to marry a man who insists on keeping me chasing him around all the time, trying to make things between us right. My life's plan doesn't include babysitting my own husband!

"Besides, there is just so much I want to do!" She was pacing again. "The drama surrounding the war and Harry—never knowing from one moment to the next whether we would live or die—that was enough excitement for me for a lifetime!"

Snape nodded his agreement. "What do you want to do with your life, Hermione?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "I'd imagine the same things you might wish to do … potions research with some obscure little company that has big vision."

"Oh?" Snape let his surprise show. "I'd have thought surely you would work for the Ministry."

"Then you do not know me at all." There was no malice in the statement. "I have no desire to get wrapped up in the beauracracy. There's no room to move around in that little box!"

Snape let out a low chuckle. "We do have that in common."

"I just want to live a quiet, useful life, with plenty of time to pursue my own personal goals. I don't want to be forever under the microscope of the wizarding public eye."

"We have that in common, as well, Hermione," Snape said grimly.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and he gave her a thin-lipped smile.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lay all of this in your lap …" She smiled at him apologetically.

"You know, it's funny … I've not talked to Harry about any of this. I just don't think he will understand. Ron is his closest friend. They expect me to marry Ron and work as an Auror at the Ministry with them both."

"But, you have your own plans," Snape broke in. "You've just told me."

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"And you can do all you wish to do, Hermione." Snape was gazing seriously at her—willing her to follow her own heart. "It seems to me that your Gryffindor courage would serve you very well right now." He said this softly but fervently.

"Perhaps so," Hermione whispered. Her smile was wobbly. "It seems I have a lot to think about."

Snape did not betray his thoughts again by word or deed.

Hermione looked at the small wooden clock hanging on the wall. "The forty-five minutes are up," she said turning to the softly simmering cauldron.

The two went back to working together silently.

Two hours later, the potion was finished and the three erstwhile housemates were gathered in the kitchen eating the simple lunch of soup and salad Harry had prepared.

"Will you take the potion after lunch, sir?" Harry asked as he and Hermione cleared the table and set out the requisite pot of tea.

"Yes, Potter," he said without rancour. "I will be going to my room to take it as its after effects can be rather … unpleasant for a few hours."

Hermione searched his face in alarm. "You didn't tell me that. The book didn't say …"

"I will be all right, Hermione," he said tightly, as he stood to go.

Hermione moved toward him. "I am coming with you," she said resolutely. Harry gave her an incredulous look. She only glared at him briefly.

"I assure you that won't be necessary," he growled.

"Of course it's necessary! Severus, there's something you are not telling us! I am going with you."

Snape eyed her with a mixture of irritation and respect. He could see by the set of her jaw and her stubborn glare that she would not be put off. Harry just stood gaping at both of them.

"Very well, then," Snape said grudgingly. "But you are being ridiculous."

"I sincerely hope that I am," Hermione said with a barely there smile.

"I will be kitchen support, then, shall I?" Harry put in as hurriedly as he could. He began loading dishes into the sink with alacrity.

A wicked, sarcastic gleam flashed in Snape's beetle black eyes and he opened his mouth, a rude comment obviously on his tongue. But Hermione laid a hand on his arm warningly.

"Yes, thank you, Harry. That will be fine. Keep the hot tea coming, will you?"

Harry smiled nervously and nodded.

Hermione turned to Snape with an over bright expression. "Shall we?"

Snape smirked at her and led her from the room without another word …

Until they were half-way up the stairs …

I don't need a censor," he ground out.

"Yes, you do," Hermione answered smoothly as she turned to look at him. "Harry is trying to help, without getting in the way. The least you could do is recognise the effort."

Snape snorted, but Hermione did not acknowledge it. "Besides, I thought you would try getting along with Harry, for a change."

Snape let an eyebrow rise disdainfully.

"Come now, you know you are as tired of hating Harry as he is of hating you. And he did offer you an olive branch the other night in the kitchen … I think you had better take it. It will not be on offer again."

"Perhaps," Snape replied with effort.

Hermione smiled. "That's better." That was all she would get in the way of agreement from Snape, she knew. And she was satisfied with it.

When they got to Snape's door, Hermione opened it, but Snape's somewhat panicked voice stopped her. "I thought we would do this in the potions room," he said awkwardly.

Hermione turned to see a decidedly embarrassed Snape staring back at her.

Why ever for, Severus?" she asked.

"Well, that is my room and we don't want Potter drawing certain conclusions."

Hermione laughed. "Don't be silly!"

"I am never silly," Snape averred. "You are a young, engaged woman, and I was once your teacher. Some might say it is improper for you to be in my room alone with me. Professor McGonagall comes to mind and …"

"I am no longer your student, no longer engaged, and Professor McGonagall and Harry are sensible people who will recognise this situation for what it is," she said in clipped tones. "As for everyone else and what they might think—I don't care!" she finished hotly.

Snape wore a bitter smile. "You would perhaps feel differently about public opinion if you saw their stares and finger-pointing should you ever have occasion to walk down Diagon Alley with me," he said acidly.

Hermione put her hands on both his arms and pinned him with a fervent stare. "Severus Snape, how dare you think I would abandon you so easily! Surely you know enough about me to realise I am not in the habit of walking away from my friends … for any reason!"

Snape's eyes became hooded in the now familiar self-protective way Hermione had seen before. "Is that what you consider me, a friend?"

Hermione smiled. "Of course! Didn't I just spill my life story out to you not a couple of hours ago?" Then, in all seriousness she said, "Any objections?" She gently squeezed his arms and looked at him expectantly.

Snape heaved a deep sigh and pretended to think about her offer of friendship. "None I can think of at the present time," he said with a light, mock sneer.

Hermione gently shook him and laughed. "You are impossible!"

Snape only continued to smirk at her. But she saw the pleased look in his eyes. It filled her with warmth to know that he valued her friendship, even a little bit.

"Now, let's get that potion into you. The sooner you are well, the sooner we can take that walk down Diagon Alley together. We will stop at Fortescue's for ice cream. I am buying." Her voice was soft and meaningful.

Snape felt his heart ache at her suggestion of a future for their relationship. "I will look forward to it, Hermione," he replied with emphasis.

And he waved her into his room, with a courtly bow.

Harry, meantime, had gotten the kitchen cleaned up and was now sitting in the parlor fidgeting as he wondered how Snape and Hermione were doing.

Then he remembered … "Oh, but it's 'Severus' now," he said with a bemused expression. "When did that happen? And why would Hermione insist on being with Snape when he takes the potion?" He shook his head in disbelief.

Was it possible, he wondered, that Snape and Hermione had become friends?

Harry laughed at the thought. "Hermione has some tall explaining to do when this is all over."

Snape had just taken the potion and was lying down on the bed. The stomach cramping had all ready started. Snape had broken out into a sweat trying to contain his groaning.

Hermione was seated in a small chair right beside the bed. She was watching him closely. "Perhaps a Stomach Settling potion is in order," she said uncertainly.

"No," Snape said through clenched teeth. "I can't take anything with the potion. Its efficacy would be compromised."

"All right," she said resignedly. Then she brightened up. "Just one moment," she said, jumping up quickly and exiting the room.

She was back in a moment, carrying an earthenware bowl. She set it on Snape's bedside table and reached into it for a flannel. She wrung it out, as Snape watched her with pain-filled eyes. She gently placed the flannel on his forehead, holding it there with one hand. He groaned softly.

"That should help a little," she said. "I wish I could do more."

"Thank you," he breathed. "It helps more than you could know." He lifted a languid, whitened hand to his head and found himself covering her own small hand.

He knew he should immediately pull away, but instead he looked up at his nurse with a questioning glance. Hermione looked unstartled. In fact, the expression on her face was nothing but compassionate … almost tender.

Slowly, she turned her hand over and gently gripped his fingers. Then she pulled his hand down to the side of the bed between them. Snape could not believe that Hermione meant to hold his hand. It was as though she really cared for him.

He looked at her face again. Even in a haze of pain, he could see she DID care. Her expression had deepened to something past sympathy.

"Hermione?" he rasped. Suddenly, he felt he could not go one moment longer without knowing all that she held in her heart for him.

"Severus, just rest," she said softly, squeezing his hand again. "I am here." She began bathing his face with the flannel. Snape felt the ache in his heart growing in sharpness.

_What does she mean by this_? he thought.

Then, he closed his eyes and just allowed her to give him this small attention.

_She just feels sorry for me, that is all_.

He felt himself drifting on a cloud of pain. He could hear himself moaning and Hermione's whispered comfort. Every once in a while, she would re-soak the flannel.

The coolness on his face was his only relief, Hermione's hand in his, his only joy.

He was completely unaware of Potter's two visits to his room. He did not know that Hermione touched not one drop of the tea her friend brought to her.

She would not leave his side.

Toward the third hour since he had drunk the potion, the pains were at their worst. Not only was his stomach hurting him, but he felt as though every muscle in his body had been stretched to the limit. Even his skin hurt.

Twice, he vomited with Hermione holding his hair back with one hand, and a rubbish bin in the other. He felt her carefully wiping his face and mouth after each bout—all the while speaking soft words as he lay back panting pitifully.

And, always, when she had finished cleaning him up, he felt her small hand slip back into his again.

By the fifth hour, the pain had begun to abate. "You look better," Hermione murmured as her thumb rubbed circles on top of his hand. Snape carefully opened his eyes.

"Yes," he said weakly. "Much better, thank you."

He looked at the woman who had sat in that hard little chair comforting him for all these hours, cleaning up his vomit and bathing his forehead. He felt astonished that she should go to such trouble for him.

She looked exhausted. Her hair was more untidy than usual. Her small, plain face was pinched with fatigue.

She was as beautiful as an angel.

"Would you like some weak tea, Severus? Perhaps peppermint?" she asked, leaning over him.

"Yes, please," Severus answered, never taking his eyes from her lovely face. He mourned as she gently extricated her hand from his. "I will go tell Harry."

She got to the door before Snape could speak past the lump in his throat. "You will come back." It was a question/statement.

Hermione turned to him. "Yes, Severus, I will be with you as long as you need me."

And she slipped out the door.

_Forever then,_ he thought as he drifted into an exhausted sleep. _You will have to stay with me forever. _


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Snape awoke two hours later to candlelight. His curtains were drawn against the night. He cast his awareness around him to find that Hermione was still there, her hand in his, her head on the edge of the bed beside him.

He smiled. He felt no pain.

He knew he should wake Hermione with this news and send her off to bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. For he knew that when she left this room the spell that had compelled her to show him such care would be broken. He would never know the tenderness of her touch again.

_Most likely she will end up running back to Weasley_, he thought, the ache in his heart rising to fever pitch.

"In any case, she could never really mean to transfer her affections to me," he mumbled.

"Severus?" Hermione awoke instantly and looked up at him. "Did you say something? Are you all right?"

Snape looked at her and found it hard to keep the pain inside from reaching his face.

"I am fine," he croaked none too convincingly.

Hermione jumped up and reached for the tea set on his bedside table. With a quick muttered spell the teapot was steaming and Hermione was pouring a cup for him. The rich, pungent aroma of peppermint filled the air.

"Here you are," she said as she helped him sit up and handed him his tea.

"You should rest now, Hermione," he said, eyeing her over the rim of his cup.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you hungry? You have not eaten for hours."

"A little," Snape admitted.

Hermione nodded. "How long will it be before we know if the potion has worked, Severus?" Her expression was eager, anticipatory.

"We will know in the next forty-eight hours," he said in cautious tones.

"It will work," she said brightly. "I just know it will."

"And if it doesn't?" Snape asked seriously.

"Than we will keep looking for the answer until we find it," Hermione replied firmly.

"'We'?" Snape couldn't help asking for clarification.

"'We'," she confirmed. "I told you I wouldn't abandon you, Severus. Remember?"

Snape nodded slowly, his eyes locked with hers.

Hermione smiled. "Now, I will get us something to eat. I won't be long."

Snape sighed.

_I have no right to hope_, he thought morbidly. _But I can't help it. Heaven help me, I love her! How did I get myself into this mess anyway? _

For the next two days, Snape rested in his bed awaiting his fate as regards the potion's effect on his condition. Hermione was with him as much as possible. She took her meals with him, sat with him hour after hour, read to him, smiled at him, and encouraged him. And he continued to be amazed at her obviously caring actions.

When they looked at one another they each saw the other's fear. For, Snape was no better. He was still pale and weak. And the wounds at his throat, which Hermione had taken to cleaning and rebandaging twice a day looked no more healed than before.

Neither Snape nor Hermione spoke their fears aloud. That would be to give them life. But what went unspoken nonetheless bound them together.

In his eyes was the plea, "Do not leave me."

In her eyes was the heart-felt vow, "I shall see you through."

And he trusted her to keep her promise.

Harry, who visited only upon rare occasion, couldn't help but notice the closeness that had developed between Snape and Hermione: the hand-holding, the gentleness with which Hermione tended their former professor, the look in Snape's eyes whenever they followed her about the room as she did her little duties to him. Harry saw it all … and wondered very much at it.

He could not help but be a little alarmed at this development for several reasons, not the least of which was that Hermione was supposed to be in love with Ron. What had happened to that?

Also, he was relatively certain he did not approve of anyone having a romantic attachment to Snape, let alone one of his closest friends. Harry had no good opinion of Snape's relationship skills, and he did not wish to see Hermione miserable in the end.

_Well, I can only wait and see what will happen_, he thought edgily. _Perhaps I have it all wrong … But he really did not believe that he did. _

For now he would only admit to being somewhat puzzled. He would refuse to be angry until he had all the facts.

Meanwhile, the second day after Snape had ingested the potion dawned bright and cold and clear. Hermione watched him carefully for any sign of improvement. She did her best to conceal her monitoring, but she knew he was too shrewd to be fooled.

They still refrained from speaking anything negative. Hermione made comments like, "When you are well …" and " … after we leave here", and at first, Snape smiled and nodded, confirming her words, even when his morning bandage change showed his wounds to have had no appreciable change.

But as afternoon came and went, his countenance became strained, his comments less frequent. Hermione held his hand and read to him from i Potions Monthly /i . But even she could not ignore his still, drawn appearance and continued weakness completely.

He caught her wiping tears from her eyes as she poured their afternoon tea, but he did not acknowledge them to her. He just became all the more stoic and withdrawn.

When Harry visited just after tea, Snape said nothing while Hermione carried on a falsely cheerful conversation with her friend. She tried twice to draw Snape in, but he had no heart to join in, so he only nodded infrequently and smiled wanly.

After Harry left, it was time for Snape's second bandage change. Neither he nor Hermione expected to see the wounds had changed as Snape felt no better.

But when Hermione gently pulled the bandages away, her eyes widened and a gasp escaped her.

"Severus!" she cried.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"Your wounds!"

"Hermione …" His sigh was as deep as the ocean.

"No, they are almost gone!" Tears sprung to her eyes.

Snape's hands flew to his bare throat. "Show me!" he cried. And Hermione rushed to the bathroom to retrieve a small hand mirror, which she brought to him, her face wreathed in smiles.

Snape took the mirror with shaking hands. He inspected his neck for some time. The wounds, which had formerly been gaping, were now only small pink scars.

"Unbelievable!" he whispered, his eyes moistening slightly.

Hermione could barely contain her excitement. "Oh, yes, Severus!" she exclaimed. "You are getting well! The potion is working!"

"It would appear so," he said, his smile widening. "I should start feeling the improvement soon."

"Oh, Severus!" Hermione chirruped. And she threw herself into his arms in her joy.

Shocked though he was, Snape did not hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly to him.

Hermione was openly sobbing now. "I am so happy, Severus! So happy! I was worried you were …"

"I know, I know …" he soothed, as he stroked her chestnut locks.

"No," she whimpered. "You cannot possibly know how I felt. I thought I might lose you, just when I had …" She stopped suddenly and froze in his arms.

Very slowly she raised herself up to look at him. Her arms remained around his neck, and he did not release her waist.

For a long moment they studied one another. And Snape, for the third time, tentatively let his protective barriers to come down.

"Hermione," he murmured, the love light shining from his eyes.

The look nearly broke her. She was speechless with shock at the sheer passion she saw in it … passion for her.

"Severus," she answered lovingly.

The fingers of one hand came up to caress her cheek, her jaw line. He cupped the side of her face. She felt his hand shaking slightly. Her breathing became erratic when she realised his face was only inches from hers. Still he did not kiss her.

"Severus, please," she said, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Oh, Hermione." And his lips were on hers.

There was nothing held back in that kiss for either of them. Hermione tightened her grip on his neck, and he pulled her body flush with his. He began kissing her with a thoroughness she had never experienced before …

The two were so engrossed in one another that they did not hear a knock at the door. They did not see Harry poke his head into the room.

"Good God!"

Hermione started, snapping her head around to behold Harry's shocked expression. But she did not vacate Snape's lap.

"I am so sorry!" Harry said in a much higher voice than normal. "I'll just be going now."

And he pulled his head back before snapping the door shut with a bang.

"Damn," Snape breathed.

Hermione turned to look at him. She was completely calm. "It's all right, Severus," she reassured him.

"Hermione, I am sorry …"

"For what, I would like to know?" she said indignantly. "For giving me the best kiss of my life? For making me feel cared for?"

Snape took her face in his hands. "Cared for? Hermione," he said forcefully. "do you have any idea what you mean to me? What these last few days have meant to me?" He searched her face carefully. "I do not just care for you, Hermione. I love you!

"I know it is all wrong in so many ways. I know I do not deserve you, and I will not be the least bit surprised if you walk away from me and never look back! But for just once in my life, I wish to be completely honest." He paused to look deeply into her now tear-filled eyes. "I love you, Hermione Granger, and nothing that happens from her on out can ever make me regret that."

Hermione's tears fell over his fingers. She put her hands over his.

"Oh, Severus, I cannot believe it! You cannot really mean it!" she said in a small, watery voice.

"I do," he said firmly.

"Oh, I love you, too, Severus! I think I knew it three days ago when I held you in my arms in that kitchen—thought I did not admit it to myself at the time."

Severus smiled and kissed her quickly again. "What about Mister Weasley?"

"Let's not talk about him now, love," Hermione begged.

Snape dropped his hands from her face and pulled her into his arms. "We will have to talk about it some time," he warned her.

"Yes," she said. "But right now, I want you to know beyond a doubt that I love you, and I will never leave you." She pulled up again to look at him full in the eye. "Not for Ron or anyone else …"

Snape nodded. He was so overwhelmed by the fervency of her statement that he could not speak. He could not believe that this young, powerful, pretty witch, who had so much potential … so much life ahead of her … could really mean to love him and stay with him forever. He felt as though his head was spinning.

Certainly, he did not doubt her integrity. Nor did he doubt she meant what she was saying to him, in this moment. But how would it be once she saw Ron Weasley again? How would it be, for that matter, when she stepped outside this room and had to face Potter's questions and undoubted outrage?

Still, though he could not bring himself to rest easy in her declaration, he also could not walk away from her because of his fears and doubts. If she was content to stay with him for a short time he would content himself with that. It was more than he deserved or expected. He would take whatever she was willing to give for however long she was willing to give it.

And he knew he would love her forever … regardless of what happened.

Hermione and Snape spent the next two hours together just enjoying the newness of the revelation of their love for one another. They kissed and held one another. They spoke of their future together.

And they completely forgot about the outside world …

That is until Hermione left Snape sound asleep in his room … and ran directly into a pacing and determined Harry in the hall.

"Harry!" Hermione startled at sight of him.

"Hermione," Harry returned coldly. "I want to talk to you." His voice was even, but his eyes were angry.

"Of course," Hermione replied, feeling her stomach drop. "Come to my room."

Harry followed without comment. But the minute her door was shut behind them …

"Hermione, what is happening between you and Snape?" His voice was strained.

Hermione eyed him coolly. "I love him, Harry."

Harry was incredulous. "You LOVE him?"

"Yes, I do." She moved to sit on her bed.

Harry was pacing again. "I see. And am I to assume that he loves you, too?"

"Of course!" The words were heated.

"And what about Ron, Hermione? Have you forgotten about him—your fiancé? The man you waited for for years?" Harry was near shouting now.

"Harry, you will wake Severus!"

"I'm sorry," he said in a much lower voice. "But you'll have to forgive me. I'm having a little trouble taking all of this in!" He ran a hand through his all ready unruly hair.

"I understand that. Now, there's something you need to see. First off, I am not Ron's fiancé anymore …"

"Obviously!" Harry spat.

Hermione glared at him. "Ron broke it off with me, remember? He said if I went with you to look for Severus, I should consider our engagement off!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, Hermione! You know he didn't mean it! You know he always comes around!"

"What I know, Harry," she countered as she walked straight up to her friend, "is that I don't want to spend the rest of my life waiting for Ron to 'come around'!"

"All right, all right!" Harry said, lifting his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I know Ron can be a bit immature …"

"A bit!" Hermione snorted.

"Do you honestly think Snape will be any easier to live with?" Harry's face was almost smug.

"Perhaps he is cantankerous, but I don't believe he will threaten to leave me every time I do something he doesn't like!"

Harry gaped at her.

"Come on, Harry! Don't you remember that stunt that Ron pulled fourth year at the Yule Ball? He ruined the whole evening rather than just admit he cared for me! Do you know I waited for him to ask me to that ball? I put Viktor off as long as I could, waiting for Ron!" She threw up her hands in frustration.

"And what about sixth year, when he made such a spectacle of himself with Lavender Brown? Did you know he did that to make me jealous?"

Harry shrugged nervously. He was losing ground.

"Those were some of the most miserable months of my life!" She was crying.

"I know, Hermione," Harry said softly.

"Is what I have just described to you really love, Harry? Ron was perfectly content to make me suffer, all because he was too proud to admit how her really felt." She shook her head as though to rid herself of these painful memories.

"Self-protection, that is what Ron is all about. And I am not willing to spend the rest of my days cow-towing to the jealous whims of a red-headed despot!"

The room was quiet for some moments except for Hermione's quickened breathing.

"I understand your point, Hermione," Harry said, trying to be reasonable. "But if you think your life will be easier with Snape, I think you are sadly mistaken. He is disagreeable, stubborn, and rude. I think you are going from the frying pan into the fire there."

"What you say about Severus is all true. But I have seen another side of him these last few days. He can be gentle and caring if given half the chance.

"Besides, he has been hurt, Harry, deeply. His life has been one big hurt and disappointment after another. He has never been given the chance to live normally or to have and express normal human emotions."

"Hermione! Snape is a hero. He has done so much for the wizarding world … for me! I am all for him finding happiness at last. But you cannot deny he is damaged.

"Isn't it just possible that everything he has been through might be too much? Do you really think he can overcome the things he has seen … the things he has done and had done to him? Do you think he can ever live a normal life?"

Hermione stared at Harry thoughtfully. "I do not know," she said softly. "But what I do know is that Severus is willing to try, which is more than I believe Ron is willing to do."

"You can't be serious!" Harry cried.

"Harry, open your eyes! Ron can be a great and loyal friend, though you must admit he has a history of abandoning you at a couple of pretty crucial moments. Why? Because he takes offense so easily; his pride is always getting the better of him.

"And when it comes to those he supposedly loves … Well, everything is always a loyalty test with him! Haven't you ever noticed that before?

"And God forbid he should ever consider someone else's way apart from his own as valid! No, it is always his way or so much the worse for the dissenter!

"Unless the woman he marries is willing to always let him have his own way, she will have to fight and suffer all the days of her life with him! Well, I have decided I am not that woman! It is as simple as that!"

"Hermione …" Harry sighed.

"No, Harry! You may be right about Severus, but you may be wrong. My heart tells me you are. But I know I am right about Ron. I know it! Neither you nor anyone else can convince me otherwise!

"Besides, I love Severus! We have so much in common! We are more suited to each other than Ron and I ever will be. If you will just think about it for a moment, you will know it is true!"

Harry looked shell-shocked.

"Well, I can see you have made your decision," he said blankly. "I won't try to talk you out of it again. But you will have to tell Ron. And the sooner the better."

Hermione let out a deep breath. "Yes," she said softly. "As soon as we return to Hogwarts I plan to discuss it with him."

"Good," Harry said sadly. "Have you thought about how everyone else will react? You are likely to lose friends over this, Hermione. Ginny … the whole Weasley family."

"I know, Harry. I know," she said, her tears starting again. "Just tell me I won't lose you." Her eyes were pleading.

"Of course not," Harry said tersely. He took her in his arms to comfort her. "I am just not looking forward to Ron's reaction. And I wonder what Ginny will have to say, not just to you, but to me."

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied. "I am awfully sorry about putting you in the middle of it all. I don't mean to do it."

Harry's answer was a quick kiss on top of her head. He understood.

For a few moments, Harry and Hermione just stood holding one another, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

"Well, Hermione," he finally said. "You have not had much sleep lately. I think you had better get some sleep."

"I suppose," Hermione agreed as she extracted herself from his arms. "Harry, I am sure Severus will be well enough to travel in a few days. I think we should get to Hogwarts as soon as possible."

Harry nodded soberly. And with one last look at her he slipped out the door.

As it happened, Severus felt almost fully recovered very quickly indeed. He was not chomping at the bit to return to Hogwarts, however. And he did his best to talk Hermione into staying a bit longer at the safe house.

"Do you realise what kind of pressure awaits us at Hogwarts?" he asked, his black eyes delving deeply into hers. "It all begins the moment we set foot on the grounds … the Ministry … the _Daily Prophet_ …Ronald Weasley …" He did not hide from her what part of this picture bothered him most. He did not like to think what might happen once she saw Ron again.

The two were sitting in the library before the fire. They had both chosen a book to peruse, but so far neither had read one line.

Now, Hermione, anxious to reassure Snape of her intentions toward Ron left her overstuffed chair and knelt before him, her hands resting on his knees. She looked up at him lovingly, and with the orange glow of the fire framing her form, Snape thought again how much she looked like an angel.

"Severus," she said with gentle care, "you needn't worry about Ron. I know exactly what to say to him."

Snape cupped her cheek with one hand, and allowed her nearness to comfort him. "It will not be pleasant, will it?"

"No, I do not imagine it will," she agreed.

"You might lose your friendship with him altogether," he said as he gently stroked her cheek. She leaned into his touch.

"I know. I am prepared for that possible eventuality." Her face was set as flint. "Of course, if that happens it will be entirely his choice."

Snape looked at her skeptically. "You cannot tell me it will not hurt you if it happens."

"Yes, it will hurt, Severus," she said evenly. "But it would hurt me far more to lose you." She looked at him meaningfully.

With that, she climbed into his lap and kissed him softly. Then, pulling back again she looked into his eyes. "Don't worry, love, we will get through this together." She placed her cool hands on his face. "And I am not going anywhere … I will not leave you, no matter what happens."

He pulled her to him possessively. "I am counting on it."

Two days later, Snape, Hermione, and Harry headed out for Hogwarts. It would be a long trip, for even though Snape knew where Dumbledore's anti-Apparation zone ended, Harry and Hermione did not. And he did not feel quite strong enough to Apparate them all safely to the correct place.

It was a sad farewell to the safe house, and Hermione made no bones about hating to leave it. Snape, on the other hand, did not betray his feelings by any means. But she knew him well enough to know that he felt the same way.

Secretly, they both tried to pretend that one day they would return.

Harry, for his part, kept his silence. Since he had seen Snape and Hermione together, and he and Hermione had spoken on the subject, he had not hidden his discomfort at the new arrangement. He was not angry … just uncomfortable.

As a result, the first part of the trip through the forest was not only rigorous, but very quiet. Not even Snape and Hermione spoke, partly because it took too much energy and partly because neither of them knew what to say around Harry.

It wasn't until lunchtime that Hermione, whose nerves were so jangled at feeling caught between her closest friend and her love, decided to speak and the consequences be damned.

"Harry … Severus," she began firmly. "I think it is time we all talked."

"Let it go, Hermione," Snape growled.

Harry just stared at her shocked at her bluntness.

"No, Severus, I cannot stand this unnatural quiet a moment longer!"

"Hermione," Harry said, "I am not trying to be difficult. I just …"

"I know that, Harry! But don't you think we would all feel better if we only …"

Snape interrupted hotly. "I, for one, would feel better if we just dropped the whole subject!"

Harry shot up off the log he had been sitting on, dropping his ham sandwich to the ground. "Don't yell at her, Snape! She's only trying to help!"

"Do not presume to tell me what to do, Potter!" He was now in Harry's face, snarling.

Harry snapped completely. "Who the hell do you think you are, you arrogant bastard?" he shouted at the top of his lungs. He gave Snape a little shove.

Hermione, who had been wringing her hands and watching the scene with wide, frightened eyes, now launched herself at the two men as though someone had cattle-prodded her.

"Harry! Severus! Stop!" she shrieked, insinuating herself between them quickly. It took all her strength to shove them apart.

"Stay out of it, Hermione!" Harry yelled, never taking his eyes from Snape's enraged face.

"Now who is doing the shouting?" Snape snarked nastily. Harry glared at him with a look fit to kill.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Hermione was crying now. "You are both acting like children! Just stop it!"

Both men turned to her, feeling guilty at her tearful plea. And for several moments, silence reigned once more.

Snape moved to comfort her first. "I am sorry, Hermione," he said as he embraced her.

"Me, too," Harry mumbled as he took one of her hands in his.

Snape glared at him but dropped his eyes when Hermione sobbed all the harder.

"I apologise, Potter, for my unreasonable outburst," he gritted out without looking at his nemesis.

Hermione turned her tear-stained face toward Harry. "Thanks," he spat. "I'm sorry, too!" His statement was entirely unconvincing.

Hermione eyed both men suspiciously, and then a sly look slowly took over her features. "Now, give each other a hug …" she sing-songed.

Both Harry and Snape jumped about three feet backwards. Harry fell over his log and scrambled up as fast as he could. Hermione began laughing so hard she doubled over.

"Hermione," Snape rumbled warningly.

"Low blow, Hermione," Harry agreed with a shake of his head and a disapproving look.

"I am sorry," she gasped between guffaws. "I couldn't resist! It was too perfect! God you should have seen your faces!"

Harry looked over at Snape and rolled his eyes. Snape just shook his head. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way slowly over to him.

"You know, if you and Hermione are really going to be together, you and I are going to have to come to some kind of understanding …"

"Yes, I suppose we will," Snape replied stiffly.

"So, we will try to get along, then?" he said, straightening to his full height and firmly offering his hand.

"Yes," Snape barely got out. Then, he took Harry's hand and shook it in one swift movement and dropped it like a hot potato.

"It's a start anyway," Hermione said under her breath with a little smile.

The rest of the trip was much less tense, mostly because Snape and Harry had found solidarity in their mutual disapproval of Hermione's little prank.

The quietness was entirely due to the hardship of beating a path through the resistant undergrowth of the forest. Exhaustion was now bearing down on all three of the travelers, but on Snape most of all.

He said nothing about his discomfort, but Harry and Hermione could see it for themselves in the pained lines of his face. So, they took turns feigning the inability to go on in order to give the proud wizard an excuse to rest.

As a result, it took much longer to get to Hogwarts than they had planned. Twilight had set in by the time they stepped out of the forest onto the grounds behind Hagrid's cottage.

"Thank God!" Hermione whispered.

Snape, who was himself now completely wiped out, wrapped his arm around her and insisted she lean on him the rest of the way to the front door. Harry said nothing.

When they set foot in the Entrance Hall Harry headed immediately off to the Headmistress' office. "I will let Professor McGonagall know we're here," he called back.

"We will be in Severus' rooms!" Hermione said.

She looked carefully at Snape now she had the light to see by. "You are completely done in, love," she said trying to hide her alarm at his pallor. "Come on. Let's get you to bed." She wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled his arm around her shoulders. "Lean on me, Severus," she said soothingly.

"What is going on here?"

Hermione froze at the familiar voice of her closest female friend, Ginny Weasley.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hermione froze at the sound of the familiar voice of her dearest female friend, Ginny Weasley. Ginny, who had come up behind them now walked around to face Hermione and Snape, with a look of suspicion animating her features.

"So, you have found him, then?" she asked softly. "Hello, Professor Snape." Snape nodded slightly in greeting, but his eyes were wary.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione said evenly. "Yes, we have found Severus, and I am sure you can see he is unwell and in need of rest …"

"Yes, of course," Ginny said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "You must make sure you take good care of Professor Snape, since he is so much more important than my brother."

"Ginny, don't start," Hermione groaned. Snape just stared at his red-haired detractor blankly.

"All right," Ginny replied through a cold smile. "But, we will be talking, Hermione."

And she flounced away, leaving Snape and Hermione with only the background noises of supper now progressing in the Great Hall.

"Don't you think we should go to the hospital wing?" Hermione asked as they started out slowly once again.

"No," Snape gasped. "My rooms … Please"

"As you wish, Severus. But won't you let me transport you with a levitation charm? I think …"

"Certainly not!" Snape snapped rather less forcefully than he had before. Hermione said no more.

It was a struggle getting to the dungeons, but somehow they managed it. And Hermione had helped him to bed by the time Professor McGonagall and Harry arrived.

Professor McGonagall burst into uncharacteristic tears at sight of him. A myriad of emotions flitted across her face, as Snape watched her with trepidation. After all, the Headmistress had been quite close to Dumbledore.

Finally, she calmed herself and seemed to settle on being happy to see the former Potions master. "Severus, you are finally back," she said in a watery voice.

"So it would seem, Minerva." He managed to sound bored, but he was still watching her closely. "But how long will I be allowed to stay once the Ministry is informed of my return?" He felt an overwhelming urge to be sure of his welcome, no matter what Potter had said about the Ministry's feelings on the matter.

"Don't be silly, Severus," Professor McGonagall said dismissively. "Harry and I took care of the Ministry long ago … The worst you can expect from them is a hero's welcome."

"That is bad enough," Snape muttered. But he relaxed visibly.

"Still as optimistic as ever, eh, Severus," McGonagall chuckled.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione interrupted abruptly. "I think Severus should rest now." She reached for Snape's hand and the Headmistress watched with barely concealed surprise as he willingly grasped her hand in return.

She smiled knowingly. "I see," she said briskly. "Yes, of course, you must be tired from your journey. We will speak later when you are feeling better."

"Harry." She turned to him abruptly. "You still have a bed in Gryffindor Tower, if you wish."

Harry nodded his acquiescence.

"And, Hermione …"

"I will be staying here with Severus, Professor." Her tone was polite but pointed.

McGonagall sized up her former student for a moment. "As you say, Hermione" she said finally. There was a hint of a sigh in her tone. "Well, then, if you need anything do not hesitate to call up a house-elf," she continued as she headed to the door. "Good evening." She was out the door with an officious swish of her robes.

Both Harry and Snape were gaping at Hermione, who had begun busying herself straightening the bed-clothes. She looked up to see the stunned faces of the two wizards most dear to her.

"What?" she asked, stopping at mid tuck in the duvet.

"You just dictated to Professor McGonagall …" Harry started, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"So, I did," Hermione said. "Severus can't very well see to himself right now, can he? And I am assuming you wouldn't want Madam Pomfrey hovering over you." She looked over at Snape for confirmation and he gave it with an alarmed expression. "And I hardly think Harry …"

"Uh, no," both men confirmed. Harry coughed rather forcefully.

"Well, then, it looks as though I am the one for the job." Hermione finished conclusively.

"Harry, you had better go find your bed for the night, hadn't you?" she said as she ushered him to the door. "We both have business to take care of tomorrow." She gave him a pointed look.

Harry smiled grimly. Ron and Ginny …

"Goodnight, Hermione … sir." He turned to Snape briefly.

"Goodnight," Hermione replied. Snape said nothing. She closed the door behind her retreating friend.

"Do your wards reset themselves when your door closes?" she asked.

"Yes," Snape replied. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you." His eyes were on her, but his face was without discernable expression.

"Whatever for?"

"For taking care of … everything."

_For taking care of me_, he thought.

Hermione read between the lines. She walked over to him and kissed his forehead. "You are welcome," she whispered. "Are you hungry?"

He nodded.

The house-elves brought a spread fit for a small dinner party and Hermione watched with satisfaction as Snape ate his fill.

"Are you in any pain, love?" she asked as she took his tray.

"No," he said, "I am only a little tired." But Hermione knew better. He was more than a little tired.

"Then you must sleep now." She began to arrange his pillows.

"Hermione," he said, his voice full of foreboding. "You will have to talk to him sooner rather than later, you know."

Hermione looked at Snape with worry-shadowed eyes.

"He is bound to know you are back. His sister …"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed quietly. "But I am not leaving you tonight."

"Your actions speak volumes, then." Snape watched her carefully as he spoke. "He already knows."

"That may well be, Severus." She hastily wiped a tear away.

Snape took her hand and patted the side of the bed beside him. "You are sure?" His eyes begged her to understand his need to ask. She did.

"I was never more sure of anything in my life," she said in strong, firm tones. Snape's face moved from fear to rest. "And I will go to him tomorrow to tell him of my decision."

"He will hate you for it, Hermione." His voice was mournful.

"Perhaps," she answered firmly. "I do not delude myself that this will be an easy conversation. But, I know now, that even if you had not come along, it still would have been wrong for me to marry Ron. One day, Ron will realise it, too."

"What about Harry?" Hermione jumped at Snape's use of Harry's first name.

"He is, I think, coming around, don't you?" she said with a small smile.

Snape looked somewhat skeptical.

"Severus, I know you and Harry may never be the best of friends …" Snape smirked. "But Harry respects all you have done, and I know that you are not insensible to Harry's contributions …" Snape's face froze. He would not give away his thoughts. So, Hermione felt confirmed and she smiled. "Perhaps you could build on that and one day you will at least not hate each other."

"I don't know, Hermione," Snape replied darkly, shaking his head.

"Well," Hermione said, hiding her disappointment, "hope springs eternal." She finished tucking him in. "Sleep now, darling." She kissed him lovingly.

As she settled on the sofa for the night she let herself feel her nervousness about tomorrow's meeting with Ron.

She knew it would be a defining moment—for good or ill. The thought that she could lose Ron forever, not to mention Ginny and the whole Weasley family, made her feel shaky.

At least Harry had promised not to desert her.

And nothing could compare to what she had found with Severus.

It would hurt her terribly to see Ron go, but if he chose to do so there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Hermione pulled her blanket up to her chin and listened to the fire crackling on the grate. Tired as she was, it was another hour before she slept.

The next morning dawned cold and dark. Hermione saw it as a bad omen.

Snape came out of his room to find her hunched over her tea at his small kitchenette table.

"Good morning, Severus," she said mildly as she poured him his tea.

"Good morning," he replied smilelessly. "Did you sleep at all?"

"I did … and you? You look much better."

"I am recovered, thank you." He sat down and took up his cup.

"I wonder who finished cleaning up your rooms," Hermione said conversationally. "They did a fine job. I can tell you it was a right mess, especially after our battle with Rodolphus Lestrange. I couldn't believe …"

"Hermione, you are babbling," Snape said mildly as he sipped his tea.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I suppose I am a little keyed up." Her teacup clattered as she set it clumsily on its saucer.

"It is only natural," Severus said. "You needn't pretend with me." His gaze was slightly reproving.

"I know," Hermione murmured.

"I think it would be best for you to go to see Mister Weasley right away. Get it over."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I can't eat anyway."

Snape took her hand. "I will be here waiting for you." His expression was tender.

She kissed him. "Thank you. That is no small comfort."

The walk to the hospital wing was a long one. She felt anxious to get there, but once she stood outside the doors, she couldn't bring herself to go in.

"Come on," she coached herself. "No sense standing out here." She pushed through the doors and walked stalwartly in the direction of Ron's cubicle.

He was all ready sitting up and waiting for her. His expression did not bode well.

"Ron," Hermione said coolly.

"Hermione," Ron grumbled through clenched teeth. His eyes were hard as ice.

"I have something to tell you." Hermione saw no reason not to plunge right in.

"Save it!" Ron growled. "I all ready know." His face reddened with anger.

"Ron …" Hermione sighed. "I am sorry, really …"

"I just bet you are!" he yelled suddenly, clenching his hands in the bed sheets. "First, you abandon me to go look for the git! Then you CHEAT on me with him!"

"I didn't cheat, Ron!" Hermione was horrified. "And don't shout. Madam Pomfrey will have our heads!"

"Yeah," Ron rolled his eyes with contempt. "And you did cheat, unless you have forgotten you were my fiancé!"

"I think you have forgotten that you broke it off with me BEFORE the trip ever took place!"

"Come on, Hermione! You know I was just angry! You know I didn't mean it!"

"Oh, I see," Hermione said caustically. "You expected me to read your mind instead of going on your spoken word … as usual! And I suppose that is how you planned to conduct our entire married life!"

Ron looked gobsmacked. "I would expect you to understand me and …"

"Really, Ron! And what, spend the rest of my life dealing with your temper tantrums? As much fun as that sounds …"

"Now, wait just a minute, Hermione! You can't make this about me! I am not the bad guy here!"

"No, Ron, you are not! You are the incredibly selfish, insensitive arse here!" she hissed. "You are telling me that your fit-throwing is something I would just have to get used to and allow for because it is who you are! Well, no thank you!" She crossed her arms over her chest and stamped her foot for emphasis.

For a moment, Ron looked cowed. But only for a moment. "Oh, and life with that greasy bastard, Snape, is going to be any easier! What about his temper, his cruel remarks!"

Hermione glared. "Severus is temperamental, I will admit. But HE does not play games. He tells it like it is! And he may be harsh at times, but he will always say and do what is best for me!

"And he will not try to stifle me or stop me doing what I feel I must!"

"Oh, yeah, he's just the picture of the perfect husband!" Ron said contemptuously.

"Ron, I love him," Hermione said softly, all the fight suddenly gone from her.

Ron looked, for a moment, as if she had shot him. "Don't say that, Hermione," he said miserably.

"I am sorry. I just think you deserve to know the truth," she whispered, moving nearer the bed.

The look in Ron's eyes was devastating. "You once said you loved me, too …"

"I know, Ron," Hermione pleaded. "I thought I did. Truly. But now I know better. Don't you think it odd that I am unwilling to allow for your faults, but I am willing to allow for his?"

Ron shrugged. His face was stony.

"I cannot see you and I staying together for the rest of our lives, but I can see Severus and I …"

"Stop, Hermione, please." Ron put up a hand, his face blanching. "Look, you obviously know what you want to do. And my opinion means nothing to you now. But you can't expect me to be happy about this. I can't go with you on this one."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I see. I expected as much, Ron. And I understand that you cannot sanction my relationship with Severus."

"No," Ron said, "I don't think you do understand." He paused, nervously wiping his forehead with one hand. "I don't think we can even be friends anymore."

"Ron," Hermione gasped.

"Hermione, I can't bear to watch you throw away what we had on that great greasy git! And if you had a particle of compassion in you, you would understand that!" Angry tears stood in his blue eyes.

"You may not love me anymore, but I still love you. And the only way I can deal with what you have done … what you are doing … is to walk away completely."

But Hermione did understand.

_It is always about you, isn't it, Ron?_ she thought resignedly.

"That is going to be hard to do, don't you think? We are both friends with Harry," she reminded him carefully.

But Ron only eyed her speculatively. "Don't worry, Hermione, I won't stand in the way of your relationship with Harry," he said stoically. "I need some time away anyway. I think I will go away for awhile—maybe to visit Charlie in Romania."

"Ron, you don't have to …"

"I am serious." His voice and expression brooked no argument.

"Alright," she said quietly. "You do what you need to do."

"Thank you," he said, his face set.

"Ron, I really am sorry," she said. "Truly I am. I did not see this coming any more than you did. And I wish I could do something to help you feel better." She wiped quickly at her teary eyes. Her words seemed trite, even to her own ears.

"I know." His reply was barely audible. He was not looking at her.

And with one last look at the pathetic figure of her ex-fiancé lying in his hospital bed, Hermione turned and walked away.

Meanwhile, back in his quarters, Snape was busying himself with nothing in particular. He wished he knew what was happening with Ron and Hermione.

It seemed that every fear he had ever had about his relationship with Hermione had come to roost squarely in his tormented mind.

What if, when Hermione saw Ron, she suddenly realised she had made a terrible mistake and decided to go back to him? What if when she returned she told him it was over?

_She promised never to leave you, didn't she_? a small voice questioned him.

And she had, but what if she changed her mind? What if losing Ron's friendship and that of Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family was all too much for her after all?

_But she said she loved you. What are you afraid of?_

Snape stopped his pacing before the fire and turned to stare into it moodily.

"That she will find out that she really does not love me … that the best thing that has ever happened to me will end before it's even started," he said bitterly.

"Severus?"

Snape closed his eyes. Had she heard? He turned slowly. One look at her face told him she had.

"Hermione," he breathed. "You are back." He could not hide his relief.

"Of course I am," she said as she rushed into his arms. "How could you doubt me?"

Snape held her tightly to him. He kissed the top of her head. "I didn't, really. Only you were gone—with him. I thought perhaps …"

"I would change my mind?" She looked up at him, her brown eyes glimmering with tears and firelight.

He nodded stiffly. "I am sorry," he said softly.

"Severus, it is all right. I realise all of this is new to you. But someday," she reached up and kissed his sallow cheek, "I hope you will be secure in my love."

Snape looked down at her and said nothing, but his obsidian gaze was full of warmth, passion, and love. His heart was clearly visible to Hermione. And she felt her heart answering his in turn.

"You are precious to me," Snape said, bending near to her ear. "Do not forget it." He looked at her again, his face only inches from hers. "Without you, I would have no reason to go on."

Hermione felt a delightful shiver run through her as his voice flowed over her and into her like warm, smooth honey.

"Severus," she sighed, closing her eyes.

Then, his lips took hers, and she let herself melt into his embrace. His arms tightened around her. He pulled his mouth from hers and began trailing kisses down her throat.

"Oh, Severus," she said, her heart swelling with love, her body responding to his touch.

"Hermione," he murmured into her throat. "How I love you …"

"I love you, too." She barely got the words out before Snape was kissing her again fervently, possessively.

She felt her desire to be fully united with him in every way possible overwhelm her. She pulled away from and looked deeply into his eyes. She saw his own desire there. "Take me to bed, Severus. Please." Her voice was shaking, but sincere.

"Are you certain you know what you are asking?" he replied silkily. His eyes were now smouldering.

"Quite sure," she said in sultry tones, enticing him with her own come-hither look.

Snape pulled her into another fiery kiss. Then, he swept her into his arms, lifting her easily off the floor.

"I should warn you that once I have had you in my bed … once I have made love to you … I shall consider you irrevocably mine. And I will not willingly be parted from you again." His words were firm but passionate. "I love you, Hermione. It is my love for you that compels me now."

"Can you … will you … accept my terms?" he whispered.

But his gaze was no less intense for the softness of his voice.

Hermione felt butterflies take up residence in her belly and her heart was so full! Full of the revelation that, to Severus, making love to her was about commitment. It meant he would remain with her forever and would expect that she do the same for him.

To Hermione, hearing this—these sweet, solemn, beautiful words from Severus was a dream come true.

Her eyes sparkled with joyful tears as she tenderly stroked his cheek. "Yes, Severus," she cried, hugging his neck tightly. "I am more than willing to belong to you—and only to you."

Severus kissed her softly, and without once looking away from her, carried her to his room—their room.

Severus and Hermione's binding ceremony was performed one month later. It was very poorly attended. Only Harry and a dutiful Professor McGonagall came. For their little circle of friends and acquaintances was scandalised, not only by the discovery of their relationship itself, but by the swiftness with which they moved toward finalising their commitment.

The Weasleys, as predicted, were livid at this development. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley both took turns berating Hermione for "what you did to poor Ron". Ginny refused to have anything further to do with Hermione.

Mr. Weasley took an entirely different tact. He tried to reason with Hermione by pointing out that the loss of her friends would be the least of her trials if she married such a cold, aloof wizard as Severus Snape.

"You will rue the day, Hermione," he had said sadly. "You mark my words."

But Hermione knew different.

Harry said very little. He seemed resigned to the fact that one of his best friends was determined to marry his near enemy. He and Severus developed an uneasy alliance that Hermione hoped against hope would eventually become friendship.

Her hope was bolstered one day when overheard Harry defending Snape to Ginny in Hogwarts' gardens three days before the binding. She knew she should walk away for propriety's sake, but she just could not bring herself to do it.

"I don't see how you can agree to be at their ceremony! It is positively traitorous, Harry! Just plain traitorous to Ron!" Ginny had said petulantly. "You remember Ron, don't you? Your closest friend—the one who is in Romania licking his wounds as we speak!"

Harry had taken a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ginny, Hermione has made her decision. She has given me her reasons for breaking up with Ron, apart from her love for Snape, and I cannot really fault her for them." He had stood up tall as he could and given her a defiant look. "I think she is right about her and Ron not being meant to be together. I think they would have made one another miserable in the end."

"But, Harry!"

Harry stopped her with the abrupt raising of his hand. "Just a moment. As for her relationship with Snape … I may not understand it fully, but there is one thing of which I am certain, they truly do love one another. And Snape's heart is right toward her."

Ginny had huffed angrily at this point.

"Ginny, he is a good man." Hermione had been stunned at the certainty in Harry's voice. "He is not particularly pleasant, but I trust him to do his best by Hermione.

"And I plan to befriend him, if I can, for her sake, and I hope one day you will do the same, if only for my sake."

Ginny, who had inherited her mother's temperament, had stomped off. And Hermione's heart had broken for Harry, who had looked after his love disconsolately.

At the same time, Hermione was glad that Harry was standing with her and, by extension, Severus. She was glad he hadn't succumbed to the pressure all around him. It made her feel strong just knowing he was with her.

Now she could only hope that, soon, all those she loved would come around.

But, if they didn't, she could not regret her decision. Severus was worth this trial of fire.

He was surly, difficult, and ridiculously stubborn—exasperating, really. But he was also good, noble, wise, and a constant challenge. Hermione loved a challenge. Now she had one for every day of her life.

Snape, for his part, suffered greatly for having so much attention drawn to him. Being reclusive by nature, he detested the Ministry's attentions to him as the long lost war hero just as much as the very negative attention heaped upon him due to his relationship with Hermione.

Many of his so-called friends—Professor McGonagall included—tried to talk him out of what they saw as his selfish folly. Sometimes it had been very difficult not to fall under such judgement—especially when it so closely mirrored his won insecurities about the "rightness" of his actions.

But such fears dissipated entirely when he saw Hermione in their rooms at the end of the day. It amazed him that no matter how battered and storm-tossed he felt, having Hermione to come home to made it all worthwhile.

Her cool, firm hands rubbing his temples as he lay on the couch, head in her lap … her sweet, soft voice affirming her love for him … reading together by the fire … making love in their big four poster … These were his simple pleasures, his small, but significant comforts.

Now that he had her, he felt his life had truly begun. He would weather any storm just to see that special smile she reserved just for him.

To his hungry heart, so long starved for love, nothing was more wonderful, nothing more necessary to his existence now. To him, Hermione's love was worth everything.

Epilogue—Ten Years Later

Severus watched with an amused expression on his face as Hermione busily went about opening the potions shop they had owned for the last seven years. She looked so serious, strands of bushy hair escaping the silver clip at the nape of her neck, robes whipping around about her legs.

When she stopped to arrange a display of wizarding cold remedies, Severus saw his chance.

Creeping up behind her, his eyes gleaming slyly, he reached out to grab her and pull her to him.

"What are you doing?" he purred.

"Severus!" Hermione spun around, her anger crackling around her, which only made him chuckle gleefully.

This incited her further. "Why is it you feel compelled to sneak up on me like that! For heaven's sake …" she muttered as she ineffectually tried to straighten the wrinkles in her robe by hand.

"Are you a witch, or are you not?" he said with a teasing smile. And with a flick of his wand her robes were perfectly pressed.

She glared at him. "Really, Severus!" she blustered. "Answer my question now. Why must you insist on a once a month sneak-fest?"

"Because you always respond like this," he said smugly as he levitated the cold remedies back to their place on the shelf.

"Well, I wish you would stop it! It's infuriating!" she said heatedly, her hands coming characteristically to her hips.

"You are just angry because you never see it coming," he said evenly. He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Hermione eyed him irritatedly and grumbled, "I so hate it when you are right."

Severus spun around and gathered her up into his arms and kissed her cheek affectionately. "As I usually am …"

"Arrogant bastard," Hermione said smilingly.

"Little know-it-all," he countered without missing a beat smoothly. And he kissed her soundly.

"We had better open the shop," Hermione said wrapping her arms around his waist.

His smile faded. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Well," Hermione pulled away and headed for the door, "at least we will be closing a little early tonight. Remember, Ginny and Harry will be here for supper."

"Don't remind me."

Hermione gave her husband a knowing look. "Oh, don't pretend you don't like them, Severus. You know you don't hate Harry anymore. In fact, I would say you have even made friends with him."

Severus glared at her. "Bite your tongue," he growled.

Hermione only smiled sweetly in reply.

"All right," Severus began grudgingly, "I will admit I don't despise him. His company is … tolerable."

"Yes, of course," Hermione rolled her eyes—and counted her many blessings.

It had taken time after their binding ceremony for the Weasleys to come around—Ron the longest. But once he was married to a lovely witch he had met in Romania named Sabina, the whole family, even Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, had thawed out toward Hermione. And eventually they had learned to, not only accept, but to like Severus as well.

And Hermione had had the very great pleasure of watching Harry and Severus develop what could only be called a friendship. It had started with Severus acknowledging the fact that Harry had stood with them at their binding and thereafter—even though he had been risking the loss of Ron, Ginny, and the whole Weasley clan.

Severus had never said it out loud, but Hermione knew he was secretly impressed with Harry's steadfast defense of their right to be together.

Each time Harry had come to visit Hermione after their binding, Severus had spent a little more time in the room with them. And one day, he had sat down to tea with them. Soon he had begun joining in the conversation. From that point on Severus had made it a point to be around when Harry came.

Oh, Harry and Severus continued to trade barbs and insults. But there was no heat in them. Their baiting had become more a sign of affection now.

Yes, life was good.

There had been only one disappointment—one roadblock—that had threatened their union. They had been unable to have children—or, more precisely, Hermione had been unable.

For two years, they had visited Healers. Hermione had taken numerous potions … They had even looked into Muggle means, but to no avail.

Hermione had been frantic, more because she felt she was standing in the way of Severus having it all—wife, children, everything she believed would make him happy. She had been so driven to give him children that she had inadvertently left Severus in the dust.

And, as she could not bring herself to tell Severus how she felt, tensions grew so high that their marriage began to fail.

The fighting had gotten too intense that soon Severus and Hermione had started avoiding each other completely.

Then, one night, Harry, in whom Hermione had tearfully confided, broke that confidence, and cornered Severus in the Leaky Cauldron and had had a heart to heart talk with him.

Neither Harry, nor Severus ever divulged the contents of the conversation. But, somehow after that talk, Severus had found the strength to go home to his wife.

He had dedicated himself to convincing her that, whether they had a child or not, he loved her and was content to remain with her for the rest of their lives.

It had been a huge hurdle, but in overcoming it, their love had been tempered and refined and strengthened. And they had learned that their commitment was not dependent upon the transient happiness of a moment. Theirs was a life-long bond built on, not the ever changing circumstances of life, but on the rock solid foundation of the spiritual connection forged between them at their bonding.

True, this priceless knowledge had been dearly bought with tears and pain beyond measure. But both Severus and Hermione saw it was worth it.

Yes, the eternal preservation of their love was worth it all.

finis—25 November 2007


End file.
